


Penance is the Play

by Maeglin_Yedi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Blow Jobs, Coercion, Dysfunctional Relationships, First Time, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulation, Mentor Snape, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 66,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeglin_Yedi/pseuds/Maeglin_Yedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wants revenge. Harry has a plan. But is Harry Slytherin enough to avoid his own trap?</p>
<p>Written and published before the release of HBP and DH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Warnings/Category: first-time, hints of manipulation, coercion and a dysfunctional relationship. Harry turns 16 during the story. Written pre-HBP.  
> Disclaimer: All the characters from Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.
> 
> Summary: Harry wants revenge. Harry has a plan. But is Harry Slytherin enough to avoid his own trap?
> 
> A/N: Written for the Harry Potter Reversathon, recipient: 85, Pubert Shufflebottom, who requested among other things a realistic portrayal of a first-time relationship between Harry and Snape, with manipulation, dubious consent, a dysfunctional relationship, and use of potions, magic and Legilimency in the plot.
> 
> Word count: 66509  
> First published: July 2005

It was remarkably easy for Harry to make the decision. 

After having spent two weeks in his bedroom at Privet Drive, grief and solitude his only companions, Harry decided to seek revenge.

He needed a plan, and for a short while he couldn't think of anything that would make up for the pain he felt, that would hurt that guilty bastard as much as Sirius' death had hurt him. Until Aunt Petunia handed him a stack of old newspapers to use for cleaning Hedwig's cage. 

Harry, bored with looking at four walls all day, sat down on his bed and paged through the newspapers. One headline caught his attention.

'LIVERPOOL TEACHER CHARGED WITH RAPE FOR CLANDISTINE RELATIONSHIP WITH FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD STUDENT'

It was the perfect plan. After all, what would hurt Severus Snape the most? Losing his position at Hogwarts and being send to Azkaban. 

Harry smiled as he folded the newspaper and placed it at the bottom of Hedwig's cage. By the time Lupin and Moody came to collect him six days later, Harry had his plan worked out and was convinced nothing could possibly go wrong.

*~*~*~*~*

"I daresay that the unfortunate events at the Ministry have made it perfectly clear why it is so important that you learn to defend yourself, Harry, both physically and mentally. Therefore I think it's best..."

It was easy to shut out Dumbledore's lecturing voice. Harry sat at the kitchen table and kept his eyes down, not meeting Dumbledore's narrowed eyes, Lupin's sympathetic gaze or Snape's venomous glare. Harry wanted to jump up and yell at Dumbledore that those unfortunate events at the Ministry wouldn't have happened if the Order hadn't kept him in the dark. If Dumbledore had explained to him why he needed to learn Occlumency. If Snape had stopped him. If Snape had stopped Sirius. 

But Harry couldn't yell any of those things, even though they burned the back of his throat and clouded his vision. He needed to play along if he wanted his plan to work. 

Harry dared a brief glance at Snape, who stood against the wall with his arms crossed and looked like he'd rather be tortured by Death Eaters than listen to Dumbledore's suggestions. 

"I'm well aware of the animosity between Professor Snape and yourself, Harry, but I hope that you'll both be able to get over these differences in favor of your special education," Dumbledore said, and gave Harry a long, calculated stare.

Burying his face in his hands, Harry let out a whimper and made sure his shoulders shook. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I know it's all my fault. I know Sirius would still be here if I hadn't...if I'd just..." He made sure Dumbledore couldn't see his eyes, because it wouldn't do if he saw that Harry didn't mean a word of what he was saying. 

"Oh, Harry, it wasn't your fault," Lupin said, compassion dripping from his voice. Snape gave a loud snort, and Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"I'll do anything. I won't complain and I'll study hard and learn Occlumency. I promise." Harry slid off his glasses and rubbed his eyes as if to rid himself of a stray tear or two.

"I'm more than willing to give you a second chance. Severus, I'm certain that you feel the same way," Dumbledore said, and gave Snape a look that said he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Of course, headmaster," Snape said, though his narrowed eyes spoke differently. 

"Very well. You can start on your Occlumencly training tomorrow, Harry. Professor Snape will meet you here in the evening." Dumbledore got up and smiled. Snape said nothing and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

And Harry kept his face blank and felt warm with triumph. Stage one of his plan was a success. He felt such a rush of early victory that he didn't even stop to wonder why Snape had agreed to Dumbledore's plan without much of a fight.

*~*~*~*~*

Once Dumbledore and Snape had left, Lupin refilled Harry's teacup, and gave Harry a warm smile.

"There are a few things I should tell you," Lupin said. 

Harry added a lump of sugar to his tea. "Yes, sir."

"Do call me Remus."

"All right." Harry wished Lupin – or Remus would hurry up already. He had the next step of his plan to take care of.

"Dumbledore has relocated both Kreacher and Buckbeak. He thought they'd be happier somewhere else after all that has happened."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He didn't gave a damn about what happened with Kreacher – in fact, if he'd still been around Harry thought he might have just used him as a punching bag – but he did feel sorry Buckbeak was gone. 

"And Sirius left a will," Remus continued, his voice softening.

Lowering his gaze, Harry rapped his foot against his chair.

"He's left this house and his vault to you, Harry."

Harry stared at his teacup with determination. "Oh."

"Harry," Remus said, and stayed quiet, as though searching for the right words. "Perhaps you should try talking about what's happened. You're not the only one who's lost someone dear to him."

Harry shoved his chair back and got up. "I don't want to talk about. I'm going to bed now."

"All right," Remus said, and sounded hurt. "Good night."

"Good night." Harry rushed out of the kitchen. At least he did manage not to slam the door shut on his way out.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry sat on his bed and rubbed the faint scar on the back of his hand. It was that scar that had Harry decide on what step to take next. The prospect of doing anything sexual with Snape was horrifying, to say the least, and it would be far easier to rile Snape into assaulting him physically. But truth was, Harry had no idea if physical abuse of any kind was reason enough to get a teacher fired and sent to Azkaban.

Umbridge surely hadn't thought so. 

Harry had no way of checking the exact Hogwarts rules. Normally, he'd ask Hermione, but he knew Hermione would get suspicious and ask questions, and Harry could have none of that. 

And thus Harry decided it was best to lure Snape into a clandestine relationship. Harry was quite sure that would be reason enough for Dumbledore and the Ministry to take serious action against Snape. 

Of course, Harry wasn't sure if Snape even liked men that way, let alone a fifteen-year-old boy, but it was worth a shot. If it didn't work out, Harry could always try going the physical abuse route. He was sure he could piss Snape off enough for Snape to hex him or even attack him. The Pensieve Incident, as Harry had begun calling it in his mind, was proof enough of that. 

However, that was his backup plan. Right now he needed to create a memory to show Snape. A memory he could use that would show Harry exactly how Snape thought about him in a sexual way. 

Harry lay down against his sheets and pulled his flaccid cock free from his jeans. He stroked it, slowly, and conjured up the image of black hair and black eyes. It felt odd, wanking to the faint image of Snape, but Harry couldn't deny he'd been curious about men in that way. He'd just never thought of Snape as being attractive enough to fantasize about. 

Black hair, black eyes, tall, lean frame, and thin lips quirked into a sneer. Harry kept stroking, kept his mind focused on vague thoughts of Snape, and finally he felt his cock harden against his palm. It didn't feel like arousal, but more like sheer determination. That didn't matter. All Harry needed was one memory of him pleasuring himself over thoughts of Snape. 

The idea of shoving that memory in Snape's face sent a flutter of excitement through Harry, and he stroked harder, faster, feeling his breathing speed up.

"Snape," he whispered. The thought of Snape hearing him say his name while stroking his hard cock excited Harry even more. "Fuck, Snape, so good."

It was hard not to grin or giggle or laugh when he felt so giddy about his plan, but Harry's determination won over his childish amusement, and he felt the first tingles of his orgasm build in his sac. 

"God, Snape, please," he moaned, and hoped it wasn't too much. He had no idea what people said to each other while having sex, but his gut told him it was something like that. "Snape, please, I need to come."

His cock twitched in his hand and Harry knew he was close. He was fifteen, after all. It never took him long to come.

"Yes, that's it." His orgasm was right there, hovering just below his cock, and Harry gritted his teeth. It was as if a small part of his mind, or his cock, refused to find pleasure in the likes of Snape, but Harry insisted. He fisted harder, digging his heels into the bed while arching his hips up. The teasing tingles shot up and up, and Harry tightened his fingers around the head of his cock and came, gasping, "Snape, fuck, Snape."

When the rush passed and his body relaxed, Harry released his spent prick and stared up at the ceiling. His lips twitched up in a satisfied smile. Snape would never see this coming.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry was already in the drawing room when a brusque knock on the front door announced Snape's arrival the next evening. He listened to Remus' footsteps, the soft creak of the front door opening, and hushed voices disappearing down the hallway. Great. It seemed that Snape wasn't as eager as Harry to get started that evening.

Turning his back to the door, Harry pretended to vandalize the small painting above the fireplace. He was playing the part of the sullen, grieving teenager, after all. It wouldn't help his plan along if Snape saw how eager he was to practice Occlumency that evening. 

A few moments later, in which Harry had managed to scare the swan in the painting away by poking at it with his wand in a threatening fashion, Snape threw the door open and stalked inside. Harry didn't turn to look at him. 

"Lupin found it necessary to inform me that you haven't eaten yet this evening."

Harry glanced over his shoulder, and was surprised to see Snape holding a plate with a sandwich. 

"While it matters not to me if you prefer to starve yourself this summer, I will not have you pass out during our lessons because you insist on behaving like a spoiled child." Snape raised the plate in Harry's direction and narrowed his eyes. "Eat."

Harry looked back up at the empty painting. He hadn't eaten earlier because he'd been too excited about his upcoming lesson and he hadn't felt hungry in the slightest. Remus had let it slide, but apparently Snape wouldn't. Giving a careless shrug, Harry turned and grabbed the plate from Snape. He inspected the sandwich – ham, for as far as he could tell – and took a generous bite.

It tasted strangely bitter, but Harry wanted to get it over with, move onto the part where he could shove his carefully constructed memory in Snape's face, so he took another bite. Snape sank down in one of the wide, leather chairs, leaned back, and seemed to find great pleasure in watching Harry eat, his fingers weaving together and touching the backs of his hands over and over again. 

Perhaps he was interested in fifteen-year-old boys, Harry thought while swallowing. He took another bite. That would certainly make things a lot -- 

Pain ripped through his stomach, up to his throat and clutched around his lungs. Harry's fingers shook, and the plate fell to the carpet beneath his feet. 

"I think the ham has gone bad," Harry said, his voice constricted. 

"I assure you the ham was perfectly fine." Snape's stare was impassive, but his fingers moved faster, his knuckles turning white. 

Harry thought he might be sick, his stomach convulsing, and he wrapped an arm around himself. "That sandwich was...it was..."

"Poisoned." Snape smirked. 

Somehow the floor fell out from under Harry and he lost his balance. He caught himself in the back of a chair, his knees trembling. "What?"

"I poisoned it," Snape said, his voice steady, as though he were telling Harry his next homework assignment.

"You...what?" Harry's mouth dropped open, but another ripple of pain forced him to close it again and clench his jaws. "Why?" he gasped, as a tiny part of his brain supplied that if Snape killed him right there and then, he'd surely be sent to Azkaban and Harry's plan would be an instant success. Harry didn't quite agree with that. Dying had never been part of his plan. 

"Because, Mr. Potter, you believe yourself to be invincible. You believe you can take on a squad of lethal Death Eaters all by yourself. You believe you can trust everyone around you. It's time you learn what reality you live in."

"So you bloody poison me?"

"No. I merely poisoned that sandwich. It was your choice to eat it."

Harry wanted to yell at Snape for being an insane bastard, his sullen teenager act long forgotten. But the pain became unbearable now, and Harry fell to his knees. He heaved, once, twice, and then threw up on the carpet. 

"The poison's leaked into your system by now. I suggest you take action soon, Potter, or you will die within the next few hours."

Glaring up at Snape, his eyes watery, Harry tried to push himself back to his feet, but his legs had gone numb. "You...antidote...now."

Snape huffed. "This isn't about me saving your pathetic hide yet again, Potter. This is about you learning basic survival. You've been poisoned. What should you do? We went over this in our classes last year. I suspect even you must have picked up a thing or two about identifying poisons."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry tried to remember those classes. "A spell," he whispered. He remembered there was a spell, but he didn't remember the incantation. It was in his Potions book, but he couldn't move to get it from his bedroom. 

Harry raised his wand to the door, but before he could utter an 'Accio', he remembered something else. "I can't do magic," he said through gritted teeth. 

"Hmm?"

"I can't do magic. It's the holidays. The Ministry will --"

"Mr. Potter, you disappoint me. Surely those rules don't apply to you. Seeing how you've never had a problem with breaking rules before."

Harry wanted to kill Snape. Bugger his carefully constructed plan to hell. He was going to kill Snape with his own two hands. When he could move and breathe again, that was. 

"You are dying," Snape said, his voice gaining a malicious edge. "It is time you make a few choices. Is your life worth more than a reprimand from the Ministry? Yes or no?"

Clawing at the carpet, Harry tried to inhale a deep breath, but his lungs were refusing to work properly. "Yes," he hissed, and raised his wand again. "Accio Potions book," he said with all his might. 

A moment later, his book came flying into the room and landed right in front of him. Harry wasted no time and flipped it open, scanning for the chapter on poisons. He found it, and skimmed through the text to find the identifying spell. 

There it was. Harry aimed his wand at the half-eaten sandwich and said, "Toxicum Acclaro." A colored smoke was supposed to form around the poisoned object, matching a color code in the book. But nothing happened. 

Harry said the spell again, louder this time. Still no colored smoke appeared. He tried again. Nothing. 

"It doesn't work," he said, looking up at Snape in desperation. 

"If you had paid attention, you'd have learned that this spell only functions on fabricated poisons."

"What?" Harry was starting to have trouble seeing, and Snape blurred before his eyes.

"That spell only works on magical potions. However, there are plenty of singular poisons in this world that can cause a painful and quick death. I suggest you read on, Potter."

Harry banged his fist against the carpet in frustration. That wouldn't help, he knew, and he turned his attention back to his book. After having skimmed several more pages, he discovered a list of singular poisons. It talked about identifying a poison through smell, taste, structure and symptoms. 

Harry's symptoms were vomiting, difficulty breathing and blurred eyesight, but that corresponded with half the poisons on that page. He reached for the discarded sandwich and held it up to his nose. 

It smelled bitter. It also smelled strangely familiar. Almonds. It smelled like almonds. Harry traced his finger down the page and finally saw what he needed to know. 

"Cyanide. You fucking poisoned me with cyanide."

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Snape's voice sounded falsely comforting. He reached inside his robes, and tossed a small vial towards Harry. "I suggest you drink that if you desire to live."

Harry pulled the cork out with his teeth, spat it to the side, and downed the clear liquid in one large gulp. The pain in his stomach and lungs eased in slow, retreating waves, and Harry slumped down against the carpet. 

"What have you learned, Potter?"

"Never trust you," Harry whispered. Now that his mind was clear of panic, he wondered why on earth Snape had thought it a good lesson to bloody poison him. 

"Very good. What else?"

"Never eat anything you offer me."

Snape chuckled. "Indeed. Anything else?"

Harry stared up at the ceiling, his mind staying blank. 

"That you use your common sense instead of rushing headfirst into battle. That you use your knowledge to deal with problems that may occur. That you stop relying on others to save your life." Snape rose from his chair. "Get up. We have an Occlumency lesson to get over with."

The pain was gone, but Harry felt drained, his legs heavy and his head spinning. He didn't think he could get to his feet anytime soon, much less practice Occlumency that instant. He lolled his head to the side and looked up at Snape, whose dark figure loomed over him like the shadow of a Dementor. 

"You're insane," Harry whispered. "I can't believe you just poisoned me. You can't just -- "

"You'd better believe it, Potter," Snape snarled, sounding as if he were about to lose his patience. "It is time you learn to take responsibility for your own actions. I poisoned a sandwich. It was your choice to eat it. Just as it was your choice to rush to the Ministry without considering how many lives you put at risk by doing so. But even the death of that mangy cur hasn't taught you a thing, has it?"

Harry was on his feet at once, his anger stronger than his exhausted body. "Don't you dare call him that!" His mind swayed, and Harry had to inhale a deep breath to steady himself. 

"I'll call that irresponsible fool whatever I wish, and you aren't going to convince me otherwise." Snape drew his wand, but that didn't stop Harry from lunging at him. 

"Legilimens!"

The image of Sirius falling through the veil, his face paralyzed in shock, forced itself to the front of Harry's conscience, and it banged against the inside of his skull as Harry watched helplessly how Sirius fell and fell and fell --

Harry rasped, lying face-first on the floor. He tasted dust and dirt and grief, and he forced himself to calm down, forced his mind to focus on his plan, his revenge, instead of allowing Snape to insult him and goad him. He didn't want to give Snape the pleasure of seeing him angry and hurt. He wanted to hurt Snape, destroy him, when Snape would least expect it.

"Pathetic, Potter." 

"Please," he said, blinking at Snape's black boots. "Please, just give me a minute. I've been practicing this summer, I swear." And it wasn't a lie. Harry had been practicing. So much even, he doubted Snape would know he was deliberately keeping certain memories of his plan from him.

"You have thirty seconds."

Harry dropped his forehead to the floor and inhaled a few shaky breaths. He pushed the memory of Sirius, the raw pain that still threatened to overwhelm him to the back of his mind and concentrated on his plan. The knowledge that he was going to make right what had gone wrong washed over him like a splash of water and cooled his heated body and mind. 

"Time is up," Snape said, tapping his wand against his thigh. "Get up."

Groaning, Harry reached for his discarded wand, pushed himself to his feet, and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I'm ready, sir."

"Legilimens!"

And Harry was ready for the invading force of Snape's mind, at least for a few moments. He pushed back at the feeling of grasping fingers in his head, and kept his gaze locked with Snape's black eyes. And then his mental barrier crumbled and he felt Snape's black stare threaten to take over his thoughts, but Snape choose that moment to draw back. Harry found himself still standing on trembling legs, feeling slightly out of breath.

"Again," Snape said. 

For Snape, the lack of an insult was practically a compliment. Harry snorted and raised his wand, giving Snape a nod.

"Legilimens!"

Snape hit him harder this time, and Harry quickly scrambled for a memory he could use to block out the rest of his thoughts. He didn't want Snape to know he could block him longer than he led on. The image of Umbridge forcing him to write those lines, the words scratching a bloody trail on his flesh, sprang forward, and Harry used all his force to keep it in Snape's path until Snape finally broke their connection. 

Looking up at Snape, Harry pretended to feel worried about Snape having seen that memory and he hoped that feeling would show on his face. Snape's eyes remained impassive, and only the slightest curve of Snape's eyebrow told Harry Snape hadn't known about Umbridge's detention techniques until that moment. Not that Harry thought Snape would feel concerned for him. Knowing Snape, he probably approved of such methods. 

"Again."

This was the time to unleash his special memory, Harry knew. He lowered his gaze as if to clear his mind and pulled up the memory, letting it hover just on the edge of his current thoughts. Giving Snape a nod, Harry locked eyes with him.

"Legilimens!"

For the briefest of moments, Harry fought Snape's intrusion, so Snape wouldn't know what came next was a deliberate action instead of an unfortunate memory popping up. Harry inhaled a deep breath, and let Snape in just enough to press the memory of Harry wanking to him in Snape's face. He felt Snape's shocked retreat, and at that precise moment, Harry pushed. No, he didn't just push, he threw everything he had into their connection and found himself surrounded by the images and sounds of Snape's memory. 

And as Harry'd hoped would happen, Snape's mind pushed certain memories to the front, and Harry latched onto the nearest one. 

Snape, a young Snape perhaps in his mid teens, on his knees with his lips wrapped around a cock, sucking with vigor. Harry didn't see who that cock belonged to, but that didn't matter. He knew enough, and he released his mental hold on that image. A forceful push shoved Harry out of Snape's mind, and he found himself on the floor on his hands and knees. 

Panting, Harry kept his eyes closed. He didn't even have to pretend to be trembling, as it had cost him all his energy to manipulate Snape's mind like that. He waited for the outburst that was sure to follow. 

But the room remained quiet, save for Harry's ragged breaths. Keeping his head lowered, Harry glanced up and saw Snape from the corner of his eye. Snape didn't look angry. In fact, there wasn't any emotion visible on Snape's face and Harry dared to look into those black eyes. They stared down at him without betraying anything Snape was thinking. Harry returned his gaze to the floor, aware he had to seem embarrassed by what happened. And truth was, part of Harry did feel embarrassed that Snape had seen him wanking. 

"That will be all for this evening," Snape said. Harry looked up at him again, swallowing thickly. Snape slid his wand inside his robes and gave Harry a curt nod. "I will return tomorrow evening for another lesson."

And with that, Snape turned and walked out of the room, his posture composed and his step firm, as if he hadn't just seen one of his students wanking to a fantasy of him. The door fell shut and the room was once again filled with silence. 

Harry released a quivering breath. 

That hadn't gone as he'd expected, but all things considered, perhaps it was better Snape hadn't yelled and screamed at him for being an idiotic, hormone-crazed teenager. Perhaps that meant Snape had liked what he'd seen in Harry's mind. At least Harry had got an answer to his question; Snape certainly had seemed to enjoy sucking someone's cock. Which meant Harry could go right ahead with his plan to force Snape into a clandestine relationship with the likes of him.

Harry shuddered. 

Allowing himself a few moments to catch his breath, Harry slowly sat up and blinked to clear his mind of the lingering throb of having someone poking around in it. Then he gently pushed himself up, and made his way to his bedroom. It was time to take the next step in his plan.

*~*~*~*~*

If Harry hadn't overheard Seamus mentioning it to Dean a few months earlier, he never would have guessed what the small, inconspicuous advertisement at the bottom of page three of the Daily Prophet meant.

_Wizarding Wildlife. Owl Diagon Alley 37c for a free catalogue._

That was all it said, and Harry had always thought it was either a wizarding zoo or a service Hagrid probably used to order his rare beasts from. But Harry now knew it was in fact a company that sold adult merchandise of every persuasion. Magazines, toys, books, and much more, if he was to believe Seamus. 

And Harry was in need of some literature on the subject of gay sex, seeing that he'd never had any and he was planning on luring Snape to his bed sometime soon. 

Harry tried not to think too much of the idea of Snape in his bed as he wrote down a quick note to order a free catalogue. He signed it 'John Travis', as he didn't think it was anyone's business what Harry Potter was interested in, sex-wise. 

"Are you up for a trip?" he asked Hedwig. She gave a hoot, and Harry tied the note to her leg before opening the window for her. "Take that to Diagon Alley 37c. They will probably give you something to return to me."

Hedwig hooted, rubbed her beak against his thumb, and took off into the night. Just as Harry closed his window, a knock sounded on the door. 

"Come in."

The door opened, and Remus gave him a smile. "Hello, Harry. I was wondering how your lesson with Professor Snape went." 

"All right," Harry said, seating himself on his bed. He thought about mentioning the poison to Remus, as some part of him hoped Remus would get angry with Snape on his behalf if he learned about Snape's latest teaching fiasco, but he thought better of it. He didn't want anyone interfering with Snape and him. Harry deserved to get revenge all on his own. 

"I've been practicing over the summer, and I was able to block Professor Snape from my mind a few times."

"I'm glad to hear that. Good night."

"Good night, Remus," Harry said, smiling, and waited until Remus closed the door before falling back against his bed with a sigh. He needed to construct a new memory for his next Occlumency lesson, but since he was too tired to lift as much as a finger, that had to wait until the next day.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry woke to the sound of tapping against his window. Yawning, he got up, opened the window, and Hedwig flew inside, a parcel wrapped in simple brown paper tied to her leg.

The catalogue, Harry realized, and at once he felt much more awake. 

"Thanks," he said, offering Hedwig a hand of owl treats before taking the parcel from her. Hedwig settled on top of her cage, and Harry returned to his bed, ripping the paper away and throwing it carelessly to the floor. 

The cover looked promising with a magical picture of a scantly dressed man and woman rubbing hands across each other's bodies. And as Harry skimmed through the thick catalogue, he thought everything else looked promising, too. He told himself to inspect it closer, much closer, soon, but he didn't have the time now as Remus expected him down for breakfast. 

Harry skipped to the 'gay section', and inhaled a deep breath at the pictures on those pages. Yes, the sight of naked men kissing and rubbing definitely aroused him. Perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult to have sex with a man. Except that the man in question was Snape, Harry realized, and shook himself. 

He needed to place an order. Grabbing quill and parchment from his nightstand, Harry browsed through the 'gay literature' pages, and ended up ordering twelve issues of a monthly magazine called _Polish Your Broom_ , which promised helpful articles, titillating stories, and explicit photographs. He also decided on two books; _Make More Of Sex With Magic_ and _Good Sex For The Gay Wizard_. 

Hedwig gave him a reproachful stare as Harry folded the parchment, dug into his trunk for the appropriate amount of Galleons, and offered the order and the small money pouch to his owl. 

"Can you take that to Diagon Alley 37c? They'll have a package to return. Thanks, girl."

After Hedwig took off, Harry hid the catalogue in his trunk, and made his way to the bathroom. As he let the warm water of the shower cascade down on his face and over his body, Harry remembered he still needed to make a new memory for his next Occlumency lesson. That wouldn't be too difficult, since his cock was still half-hard from his brief encounter with the catalogue. 

Leaning a hand against the tiled wall, Harry wrapped his other hand around his prick and started stroking. He let his thoughts drift to Snape and to the memory he'd seen the previous night. 

Snape on his knees sucking cock. 

Harry moaned and fisted harder, and imaged it was his cock Snape was sucking. And much to his own surprise, that thought proved quite arousing, as his cock twitched and pulsed, and Harry bucked his hips to drive his hard flesh inside an imaginary mouth. 

"That's it, Snape. Suck me. Suck me hard."

It didn't sound so strange this time, now that Harry had a realistic image of Snape doing exactly that in his mind. Snape's thin lips wrapped around his hard cock, Snape's black eyes staring up at him, Snape's tongue sliding over the glistening head of his prick. 

"Fuck, Snape," Harry groaned, and came so hard his knees buckled. Catching his breath and slowly opening his eyes, Harry straightened himself, and watched how the water washed his release away. 

That would do just nicely. Harry grinned. He couldn't wait to see how Snape was going to react to seeing that memory.

*~*~*~*~*

Remus had cooked an elaborate breakfast, and since Harry was starving, he cleaned his plate in no time and eagerly accepted a second serving.

"We have something to discuss," Remus said, after Harry pushed his empty plate away. 

"Let me clean this first." Harry got up, carried his plate to the sink, and got water running to clean the dishes. 

"You can use magic for that, Harry."

"No, I can't," Harry said, and froze as he remembered what he'd done last night. He looked at Remus over his shoulder. "Were there any owls for me from the Ministry this morning?"

Remus shook his head. "Why do you ask? Are you expecting something?"

"Er...yeah. I did magic last night. I'm not allowed to do magic during the holidays."

Chuckling, Remus reached for his wand and cast a spell to clean the dishes. "How can you practice Occlumency when you're not allowed to do magic?"

Harry frowned. Remus had a point, but Harry still wasn't certain what he meant. 

"Dumbledore has made sure that any magic you cast in this house won't be noticed by the Ministry," Remus said with a sly smile. "You can do all the magic you want this summer."

"That bastard," Harry muttered, drying his hands on a towel before returning to the table. 

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Just that Snape was a bastard as usual and didn't tell me about that."

"Ah. Yes. About Professor Snape," Remus said, and Harry thought he looked rather apologetic. He wasn't sure he was going to like what Remus was about to say. 

"There has been a change of plans. I was supposed to stay with you during the summer, as we couldn't find anyone else who had that much time to spare from their work for the Order. However, it seems that an Order member changed his mind last night, and informed Dumbledore he was willing to supervise you for the next two weeks. This means I can continue with my task on the mainland during that time."

Harry stared at Remus, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. "It's Snape, isn't it?"

"Professor Snape," Remus corrected, and offered Harry a smile. "But yes, Professor Snape offered to chaperon you for a fortnight. He'll be arriving tonight, when I'll take my leave."

"No!" Harry knew that spending two weeks with Snape would benefit his plan, but his instinctual response to five years of listening to Snape's insults proved stronger than that. "You can't do that to me!"

"Calm down. Professor Snape is a respected member of the Order. He'll be teaching you Occlumency while he's here, plus some basic defense he's discussed with Dumbledore."

"I suppose I should be grateful for that git terrorizing me during my bloody holidays, should I?" Harry pushed his chair back, glaring at Remus. 

"You should be grateful for people taking the time to instruct you on things that may very well save your life at one point," Remus said, his voice hardening. "It's time you stop being a child, Harry, and start acting like an adult."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Remus was on Snape's side, which meant that he wasn't on Harry's and couldn't be trusted. "Fine!" he yelled, and stomped out of the kitchen.

It wasn't until he reached his room that he was able to calm down enough to look at this development from a different angle. Sure, spending two weeks with Snape resembled something close to Harry's worst nightmare, but at the same time it would make executing his plan much easier. 

And his plan, his revenge, was all that mattered.

Harry sat on his bed and sighed. Perhaps Remus was right. Harry had to start acting like an adult if he wanted to get revenge on Snape. Harry knew Snape was far from stupid, and if Harry continued to allow his emotions to direct his life, Snape would see right through him and his plan. 

Two weeks with Snape. Harry imagined the look of horror on Ron's face once he found out, and he chuckled. Two weeks with Snape. Harry frowned. Snape had informed Dumbledore last night he was willing to supervise Harry. Last night, after their Occlumency lesson. 

Could that mean Snape had liked what he'd seen? Could that mean Snape was interested in Harry Potter? 

It could, Harry realized, and he hoped Hedwig would return quickly with those books. He had a feeling he'd be needing them soon.

*~*~*~*~*

Supper was a quiet and strained event, even though Harry forced himself to eat most of what was on his plate. If only to make sure Snape didn't have an excuse to poison him again.

Remus seemed pleased enough that Harry wasn't yelling and stomping anymore and didn't raise the subject. Neither did Harry, as he knew he needed his concentration and energy for his upcoming lesson, and he didn't want to waste it on a meaningless discussion.

The slam of the front door announced Snape's arrival. Harry dropped his fork and sighed. A moment later, the kitchen door opened to reveal Snape in all his black-robed glory, with a large trunk floating behind him. 

"Shall I show you to your room, Severus?" Remus asked pleasantly. 

Snape scowled. "Don't bother. Just tell me which room you expect me to use."

"Second room on the right."

Snape turned on his heels and marched out of the kitchen. The moment the door fell shut behind him, Harry glared at Remus. 

"That's across from my room! It's bad enough I have to share a roof with him, but can't a bloke have a little bit of privacy?"

Chuckling, Remus shook his head. "Harry, I'm quite sure Professor Snape won't be interested in the least what you do in the privacy of your own room. Besides, he's a teacher and a Head of House. He's well aware of what boys your age get up to in their beds at night."

A furious blush heated Harry's cheeks and he buried his face in his hands. "If you dare start talking about birds and bees now, I swear I'll hex you."

Remus laughed, which embarrassed Harry even more. But before he could reach for his wand or swing an insult at Remus, the door banged open again. 

"Potter. Time to practice Occlumency."

Glancing up at Snape, Harry willed himself to calm down and remember his plan. He couldn't let teenage embarrassment come between him and his rightful revenge. Inhaling a few deep breaths, Harry got up and nodded at Snape. "Yes, sir."

"Come with me."

Ignoring Remus' smile, Harry followed Snape out of the kitchen, through the hallway and into the drawing room. 

"Wand out," Snape said as he reached for his own wand. Harry did as he was told, meanwhile staring at Snape's face, hoping to see some sort of clue on how Snape felt about having seen Harry with his hard cock in his hand. But Snape's expression was guarded as always, and Harry cracked his neck and emptied his mind. 

"I'm ready, sir."

"Legilimens!"

The first two rounds passed much as they had the night before. Harry managed to block Snape's intrusion for a few moments, before he was forced to shove a meaningless memory of the Dursleys at Snape to keep him from seeing the rest of his thoughts. The second time, Harry even managed to cast a Stinging Hex at Snape, who easily ducked it before breaking the connection. 

"Did you mean to hex me, Potter?"

Harry tried not to grin. "Yes, sir."

Snape nodded once. "Again."

Harry dragged the memory of him wanking in the shower that morning up, and kept a loose hold on it as he looked Snape in the eye. "Ready, sir."

"Legilimens!"

Once again, Harry blocked Snape for a few seconds, before losing his grip. He focused on his memory, and pushed it towards Snape, who released enough of his control for Harry to invade his mind in return. 

Harry expected to find an assortment of random memories, but instead he was forced inside an image Snape thrust at him. 

Snape lying on a bed, dressed in his familiar black robes which were opened strategically to allow Snape access to his hard cock. Snape, on a bed, wanking. Snape, his expression tightening in pleasure. Snape, moaning, "Potter."

A surge of pain ripped through Harry as he fell backwards and landed hard on his arse. It took him a moment to come to his senses, to realize he was sitting on the drawing room floor. He had seen a recent memory of Snape. He'd seen Snape wanking while thinking of him. And much to his horror, that thought sent a tiny flutter of arousal southwards. 

Slowly, Harry glanced up. 

Snape stared down at him, crossed his arms, and smirked. 

Harry gaped, as if he were unable to draw in enough oxygen. Snape had just raised the stakes, hadn't he? He'd seen Harry's bluff, and used Harry's ridiculous plan to humiliate him. Harry's hand went numb, and his wand clattered to the floor.

"Potter, get up."

But why wasn't Snape rubbing it in his face? Why wasn't Snape insulting him and making fun of him? Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate. His first instinct was to think the worst of Snape, it always had been. But he had to think about his plan. Snape wasn't humiliating him, so perhaps Snape had merely met his challenge and upped it. 

Perhaps Snape was willing to go along with Harry's pathetic attempts at seduction. Perhaps his plan wasn't a failure, after all. 

"Potter," Snape said again, sounding impatient. But before Harry could say or do anything, a knock sounded on the door. A moment later, Remus stepped inside the room. 

"I thought I'd let you know I'm off. Behave yourself, Harry. I'll see you again in two weeks. Severus." Remus gave Snape a polite nod. 

"Lupin," Snape replied, though he didn't look or sound quite as polite. 

"Bye," Harry managed, just before Remus closed the door again. 

It began to dawn on Harry that he was now alone with Snape. That he was at Snape's mercy. For two weeks. _Fuck._

_The plan! Think about the plan!_

"I believe we've practiced enough Occlumency for this evening," Snape said. "It's time to move on to your basic defense skills."

Unable to resist his curiosity, Harry looked up at Snape. 

"As I've discussed with the Headmaster, you are in dire need of learning to defend yourself. We will spend part of our time together improving your skills."

Harry nodded, feeling somewhat intrigued. He reached for his wand and scrambled to his feet. He liked defense, and he knew Snape was an expert at it. 

"Our lessons will go as follows. You will have a one minute head start. Once that minute has passed, I come looking for you. When I find you, I will immobilize you in any way I can. Should you find me first, which I highly doubt, you're allowed to use magic against me. Is that clear so far?"

Harry nodded. It sounded like a bizarre game of magical hide and seek, but Harry had to admit it would be a lot more exciting than his Occlumency lessons. "What sort of magic are we supposed to use, sir?"

Snape's lips quirked up ever so slightly. "Oh, I believe we shall ignore the Unforgivables. For now. Anything else goes. You have one minute, Potter, starting now."

"Now?"

"Yes. Now. Go." Snape pointed his wand at the door in an impatient gesture, and Harry finally caught on and fled the room. Inside the hallway, he tried to think of a plan. He needed to hide from Snape and find a way to ambush Snape before Snape could attack him. 

His cloak! He needed his invisibility cloak. 

Harry rushed up the stairs and into his bedroom. He pulled his cloak from his trunk and slid under it. Then he tried to decide on the next step. Hiding out in his own room would be too obvious, so Harry ran across the hallway inside an empty bedroom. But as he stood against the wall, wondering if the minute had already passed, Harry realized he was trapped inside a room. Not the best way to try to ambush Snape. 

Slowly, and as quietly as he could, Harry peered around the half-opened door inside the dimly-lit hallway. When he saw no one, he tiptoed into the hallway and pressed his back to the wall. Glancing around for any sign of Snape, Harry made his way to the staircase, wand at the ready. 

A movement, a faint shadow to his left caught Harry's attention, but before he could form his lips and tongue around a hex, the floorboard beneath his feet creaked. 

"Stupefy!" Snape's voice echoed through the hallway, and a red flash hit Harry square in his chest. He fell to the floor as the world vanished from his view. 

When he came to, he could move his head but his body was still bound. Snape crouched beside him. 

"What I hope you've learned, Potter, is that being invisible doesn't render one invincible." Snape slid the tip of his wand under the seam of Harry's cloak, and pushed it away from Harry's face. 

"And as long as you stampede around like a wild herd of hippogriffs, this cloak is of little use." Snape's wand traced lower over Harry's chin and throat, pushing the cloak aside and revealing more and more of Harry's useless body. "Besides, smelling like an orchard is also a dead giveaway."

Snape leaned closer, so close Harry could feel his breath on his temple. Snape's nose brushed across Harry's hair as he inhaled deeply. 

"Mango," Snape said, and made it sound like an accusation. Harry closed his eyes, a shiver running down his chest. 

"Tell me, Mr Potter, what alerted you of my presence?"

Harry cleared his throat, and realized he had control over his voice. "Your shadow, sir," he said, his voice small and raspy. 

"Ah. So what does that tell you about the Disillusionment Charm?"

Frowning, Harry thought for a second. "It will disguise your body, but it doesn't make you invisible. Your shadows are still there."

Snape nodded, and rose to his full height. "Finite Incantatem."

The invisible bonds around Harry disappeared, and Harry slowly sat up. 

"That's all for this evening. You have tomorrow morning to yourself, as I will be busy setting up a decent workroom. However, I expect to see you at noon for lunch. After that, we will continue our lessons."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and watched Snape disappear inside his room. After a minute of sitting on the floor of the deserted hallway, Harry thought he'd best get to bed, too. 

Inside his bedroom, Harry sank down on his bed and wondered what the hell had just happened. He'd learned something useful from Snape, which was perhaps an even bigger shock than having seen the man's erection. 

A soft hoot shook Harry out of his mental stupor, and he noticed Hedwig sitting on top of her cage. And there was a large package waiting for him on his desk. 

Harry jumped up, gave Hedwig half the bag of owl treats, and carried the package to his bed. Hedwig hooted again, and cast a longing glance at the opened window. 

"You want to go hunting?" Harry asked, ripping at the box between his legs. Hedwig cocked her head in reply. "That's all right. I won't be needing you again tonight." With another hoot, Hedwig took off, leaving Harry to explore his purchases in private. 

The books seemed interesting and useful, but Harry quickly dropped them to the side in favor of the magazines. They were everything they'd promised to be. Harry lay down on his side with the February issue beside him, and paged through the articles on safe and easy anal sex, with nifty diagrams and recommended spells. He stopped every so often to admire the many explicit photos of wizards demonstrating the art of gay sex, and soon enough his cock had taken a stubborn interest in the things Harry was seeing. 

Well, Harry supposed there was no reason not to take care of that problem before going to sleep. He glanced up to make sure his door was closed. Snape wouldn't be so rude as to enter without knocking. He hoped.

*~*~*~*~*

When Harry woke up the next morning, he found himself still dressed, surrounded by four opened issues of _Polish Your Broom_ , with his limp and stained prick exposed. He didn't even remember falling asleep. All he remembered was fixing his problem. Three times in a row.

Hedwig had returned, but she refused to look at him. Harry couldn't blame her. He was just glad Snape hadn't barged in to wake him for breakfast. 

Harry put the magazines and books in his trunk, and took a long, relaxing shower. After he got dressed, he went downstairs, and heard vague noises coming from the cellar. Snape was setting up a workroom, Harry remembered. He ignored the cellar door and went down to the kitchen for a cup of tea and some breakfast. 

As he cast a simple spell to clean his dishes after he was done eating, Harry thought about the defense lesson from last night. If he were honest, and Harry usually was honest with himself, he had liked it. A lot. He liked the idea of using stealth, and crossing wands with Snape. 

The thing that irked him, though, was that Snape had won. Harry's competitive side wasn't pleased with that at all. If he wanted to win, Harry knew he had to learn a great deal more than the things they'd practiced during the DA meetings.

Which led him to the one room he hadn't been all that interested in before. The Black family library. 

Harry took in the spacious room, the shelves on the wall reaching from the floor to the ceiling, and the many, many books on every wizarding subject imaginable. He browsed the titles, and carried a few books on charms, hexes, curses and, Merlin forbid, defensive potions to the large table in the center of the room. 

The first book Harry opened -- _Creative Curses For The Bold Wizard_ \-- proved a bit too gruesome for his liking. He had no desire to curse Snape's eyeballs inside out, or shrivel the man's scrotum to the size of peas. He reached for the second book -- _The Prankster Guide To Tricky Charms_ \-- but the moment he opened it, he gasped and felt something tear at his heart. 

There was familiar writing on the inside of the book cover. 'Sirius Black', which had been crossed out. Below it, 'Regulus Black', which had also been crossed out. And below that, 'Reg, you cunt, stay away from my books or I'll hex your wanger off. Sirius'.

Harry stared at those words, and for the first time since he'd come up with his plan, he wondered what Sirius would think of it. What Sirius would think of him. 

Sure, Sirius loved a good prank and despised Snape, but Harry doubted that Sirius would have wanted him to ruin a man's life. That doubt gnawed at him, making his chest ache, until Harry gritted his teeth and forced those thoughts from his mind. 

Sirius was dead, and it was Snape's fault, and since Sirius was Harry's godfather, his only remaining family, Harry was obliged to revenge him. Simple as that. 

Sitting up straight, Harry flipped to the first chapter of the book and started reading it with interest. 

And that was how Harry spent his morning. He read the book, and made notes on a charm that could make your feet as light as a feather and thus would fix Harry's problem with creaking floorboards. He did take regular breaks, which he mostly spent in his room with an issue of _Polish Your Broom_ at hand, but all in all, Harry thought it had been a very productive morning. 

When the clock in the library chimed noon, Harry was starving, and he went down to the kitchen to meet Snape for lunch.

Snape sat at the table, an opened magazine in his hands, and he ignored Harry, keeping his dark gaze fixed on the pages. 

As Harry crossed the kitchen to the sink, he noticed that the magazine looked awfully familiar. Harry stopped dead in his tracks, only a few feet away from Snape, who still didn't look up at him. 

Snape was holding the June issue of _Polish Your Broom_ , which had a most interesting rimming special. 

Something inside Harry exploded in a burst of fury and betrayal. "You fucking bastard! Who gave you the right to go through my belongings? My private things!"

Not looking up, Snape licked his index finger with a delicate flick of his tongue, and turned a page. 

"That is my magazine, and you have no bloody right to invade my privacy like that!"

"Are you quite done?" Snape asked, eyes still glued to the page. 

"No!" Harry stomped his foot and threw his hands up in a wild gesture. "I can't believe you. I can't believe how rude you are and think it's okay to treat people like that!"

"If every wizard were as naive and uncontrolled as you are, Mr Potter, there would be no need for Veritaserum in this world." Finally, Snape lowered the magazine and looked up at Harry with amused eyes. "I found this piece of modern literature in the bathroom on the first floor. I thought Lupin had left it, though I never would have guessed him to take an interest in such explicit and queer material."

"Fuck," Harry gasped, remembering he had taken a magazine with him to the bathroom during one of his earlier breaks. His cheeks felt like they were on fire, and even though he wanted to flee to his room, his feet seemed hexed to the floor. 

Snape sneered. "However, your display has just revealed everything I needed to know about the origin of this tripe, without it costing me the energy of one single question. Let us hope you never get captured, Potter. You'd spill your innermost secrets before anyone even starts interrogating you."

"I...er...I didn't mean to call you --"

"Oh, stop embarrassing yourself, you foolish child. You meant every word you said, and had I plucked this object from your trunk, you'd have every right to yell at me. But as it is, you once again let your emotions get the better of you. What have you learned from this?"

Harry worried his lip. "That I shouldn't jump to conclusions like that."

"Indeed." Snape looked back at the magazine, and turned another page. "This seems to be a favorite resource amongst young men. I've confiscated it a few times at Hogwarts in the past years. Tell me, do you find the information it provides useful?"

Harry's cheeks turned impossibly hotter. "Well, it has diagrams. And recommended spells."

Snorting, Snape turned another page. "Of course, you purchase this for the recommended spells. How could I have not realized that before?"

A tap on the kitchen window saved Harry from embarrassing himself even further. A large, gray owl stared at him with amber eyes, and Harry went to open the window. The owl carried a scroll addressed to him. Harry accepted it, and recognized the Ministry crest on the corner. 

"It's from the Ministry," Harry said, closing the window again after the owl left. 

Snape looked up. "What does it say?"

"Maybe they did notice me using magic." Harry sank down in a chair opposite Snape, a worried flutter teasing his stomach. He unrolled the parchment, and when he saw the first line, he knew this was far worse than a simple reprimand from the Ministry. 

_Ordinary Wizarding Level Results for H.J. Potter_

"What is it?" Snape asked, his brow furrowed. 

"My O.W.L. results," Harry whispered. 

Leaning back in his chair, Snape chuckled. "Do share, Mr Potter. I could do with some amusement to brighten my day."

Harry glared at Snape, which had no effect on the ridicule that shone in Snape's eyes. Harry sighed, and thought he might as well get it over with, since he was sure Snape would find out sooner or later. 

"Astronomy: Acceptable, Care of Magical Creatures: Exceeding Expectations, Charms: Acceptable, Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding," Harry couldn't help grinning at that point, "Divination: Acceptable, Herbology: Exceeding Expectations, History of Magic: Poor, Potions: Exceeding Expectations, Transfiguration: Exceeding Expectations."  
Lowering the parchment, Harry gave Snape an expectant look. 

"Quite a mediocre result," Snape said, and went back to the magazine he was still holding. 

Harry stared down at his results and remembered the talk he'd had with McGonagall about becoming an Auror. His results were good enough for that, except for Potions, and Harry knew he needed Potions to become an Auror. 

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"About my Potions O.W.L.," Harry started, trying to keep his voice polite. "I was hoping perhaps you'd allow me in your class this coming year?"

"I only accept students with an 'Outstanding' in my N.E.W.T. class, as I'm sure your Head of House has told you." Snape hadn't looked up once, and Harry couldn't believe Snape was reading porn -- his porn! -- rather than discussing his bloody future with him.

"But, sir, I'm thinking of becoming an Auror, and I need Potions for that."

"Perhaps you should have thought of that when you still had a chance to study for your Potions O.W.L."

Harry gritted his teeth and tried very hard not to lose his temper, which flared to life in his chest. "But isn't there any way I can compensate for this result?"

Snapping his gaze up, Snape stared at Harry with such intense eyes, Harry was sure Snape would either ask Harry to suck his cock every day for the rest of the holidays or allow Snape to cast the Cruciatus on him at least twice a day until the start of term. 

"So this is the part where I'm supposed to make an exception for you, is it, Potter?"

"No, not an exception. But you're here and I'm here, and perhaps you could instruct me on the things I don't understand yet."

"If I were to instruct you on all the things you don't understand, I'd need a decade, at least."

Harry released a frustrated breath. "You know what I mean. Sir."

Finally, Snape lowered the magazine and leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, Potter, but these are my holidays just as they are yours. I for one refuse to spend my holidays tutoring an insolent brat who lacks the discipline and intelligence to keep up with my class during the school year. If it weren't for the Order, I wouldn't even be in this country. I'd spend my hard-earned days on a remote beach, baking in the sun."

A disturbing image of Snape in swimmers flashed through Harry's mind, and he let out a nervous snicker.

"But you're here anyway. And you've set up a workroom. I could help out, and you could give me a few potions to brew, and if by the end of the next two weeks I'm still not good enough for your tastes, you can tell me so. But please give me a chance. This is my future we're talking about, Professor." Harry lowered his gaze and pursed his lips. He did not enjoy begging Snape, and he'd much rather yell at the man what a horrible teacher he was, but he knew that would lead him nowhere. He needed Snape in this, and Snape bloody well knew it. 

"I expect complete obedience, Potter. You are not to argue with me, you are to follow my every instruction, and if you manage that, we will evaluate your progress in a fortnight." Snape leaned over the table, giving Harry a cold stare. "If you dare disobey me only once, I will book the first portkey out of here to any convenient tropical resort, and you can sort out your future without my assistance. Is that clear, Potter?"

"Perfectly," Harry said, and added, "Thank you, sir."

"I suggest you prepare yourself a meal. We will continue your defense lessons in fifteen minutes."

"Okay," Harry said, and got up. As he passed Snape, he halted and gathered every bit of courage he had. "Can I have my magazine back, sir?"

Snape's lips curved up. "I think I shall keep this for the time being. It can get awfully cold and lonely in this house at night, don't you agree?" Snape reached for his cup of tea and took a delicate sip. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Well, if it's something warm and big you want, Professor, there's always Buckbeak."

Snape choked on his mouthful of tea, and Harry scurried to the counter, unable to hold back a snort of victorious laughter.

"Five points from Gryffindor for making insinuations about a teacher!"

"It's the holidays. I don't think you can take points during the holidays, sir," Harry said. He took the ham from the cooler, and made a show of sniffing it before putting it on his bread. No almond scent this time, Harry was pleased to note. 

Snape snorted. "Then I'll just have to remember all the points I'll undoubtedly take from you and remove them all at once during your first day at school. Knowing you, you'll give me plenty of reason to do so the moment you set foot in the castle."

Harry attempted a glare, but he was too hungry to bicker with Snape. After he poured himself a cup of tea, Harry sat down at the table and dug into his sandwiches. Much to Harry's dismay, Snape continued studying the magazine, as if it were a Potions publication rather than a sleazy wank mag. 

"You have one minute," Snape said, once Harry had finished his lunch. Harry downed the last of his tea, reached for his wand, and rushed out of the kitchen. 

He had a plan this time, and a good one at that, if he said so himself. He threw the kitchen door shut with a bang, and then ran – or as Snape put it, stampeded through the hallway like a wild herd of hippogriffs. Once he reached the stairs, he turned around and sneaked back to the kitchen without making a sound. He positioned himself beside the kitchen door, wand aimed to hex Snape's socks off the moment he walked out of the kitchen. 

Snape had to leave the kitchen to come find him, Harry reasoned, so this was the perfect ambush. 

Harry waited, bottom lip sucked between his teeth in anticipation and narrowed eyes fixed on the kitchen door. He waited and waited until he was sure the minute had long since passed. Why wasn't Snape hurrying out of the kitchen to come find hem?

Someone cleared his throat behind Harry, and Harry glanced over his shoulder to see Snape standing behind him, a particularly satisfied smirk plastered on his face. 

"Oh, bugger," Harry groaned, right before a beam of red light hit him and he sank to the floor. 

As the world swam back into vision, Harry once again found himself bound, but he could maneuver his head and use his voice. 

"How did you --"

"Some of us know how to apparate, and some of us know how to do it without making a sound," Snape said, crouching beside Harry, tapping his wand against his knee. "Why would I want to apparate out of the kitchen?"

Harry sighed. "Because this door is the only exit and it would be easy for someone to ambush you there."

"How astute, Potter."

"Did you apparate behind me? I didn't feel a thing."

"No, I apparated to the library."

Harry frowned. "Did you use a Feather Light Feet Charm, sir? Because I didn't hear your footsteps at all."

Snape looked surprised for a second, but he masked it with a furrow of his brow. "Are you familiar with that charm? It's seventh year material."

"I did some...er...research in the library this morning and came across it. But I haven't had time yet to practice it. Seemed like a useful charm."

"Indeed. What have you learned?"

"Single exits are prone to ambushes. Try to get behind your adversary so you can surprise them. And I should really practice that charm."

Snape chuckled and rose to his feet. "Finite Incantatem. I believe we should spend some time in the library this afternoon."

*~*~*~*~*

Inside the library, Harry grabbed his notes on the Feather Light Feet Charm, settled in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, and took out his wand.

"Solum Pennatus!" He pointed his wand at his feet with determination. He felt a slight tingle of magic around his toes, but as he jumped to his feet the floor groaned beneath his weight. 

"It needs a swish of your wand. Light as a feather," Snape said, his back turned to Harry as he browsed one of the shelves. 

Sighing, Harry sat down again. "Solum Pennatus!" He swished his wand as lightly as he could, and this time the magic was stronger and wrapped around his feet. Harry jumped up, and the floor didn't make a sound. 

"It worked!" Harry jumped and jumped and jumped, until he caught Snape's disapproving gaze. 

"It only lasts for two hours," Snape said, and made an impatient gesture. "Take notes, Potter. You can't expect your underdeveloped brain to remember it all."

Harry strolled to the table, soundlessly, and added the wand movement and duration to his notes. Then he picked up _The Prankster Guide To Tricky Charms_ and paged to chapter seven, where he'd left off earlier. 

"This seems like a useful charm," Harry said after a while. Snape was still busy perusing the shelves, though he did have a small pile of books in his arms by then. "The Wand Sticking Charm."

"Hm?"

"It's like those cords for your glasses, so your glasses won't slip off and fall to the floor," Harry said, and self-consciously slid his glasses up his nose. 

Snape curved an eyebrow as he stared at Harry. "Cords?"

"It's a Muggle thing. Never mind. But this charm seems easy enough."

"Try it, if you believe it useful."

Harry got to his feet, grabbed his wand, and was then at a loss as where to point it, because he couldn't very well aim it at his wand hand. 

"Aim at your thigh. The magic needs to flow into your own body." Snape had turned his back to Harry again, and Harry briefly wondered how Snape knew his ignorance when he wasn't even looking at him.

Pointing his wand down at his own thigh, Harry inhaled a deep breath, his brow creasing in concentration. "Adglutino Scipio!"

A flutter of magic ran up his body, and when Harry uncurled his fingers, his wand stuck to his palm. 

"It worked. I'm getting good at this."

Snape gave a loud snort, but didn't comment. 

"It seems very useful in a duel. You can't accidentally drop your wand," Harry said, shaking his arm as hard as he could. His wand remained where it was. "Okay, how do I take it off?"

"You don't."

"What?"

"There isn't a counter-charm, Potter. Which is why that charm is particularly popular with children who wish to play a prank on each other. Your wand will remain glued to your hand for about an hour." Snape sounded quite amused when he told Harry that. "However, the charm is useful in a duel, as you already concluded, though it won't resist a disarming spell from an adversary."

"And you couldn't have told me before I cast it?"

"It must have slipped my mind," Snape said in his smoothest voice. 

"Right." Harry sank down in a chair. "At least I can still read."

"Notes, Potter."

Sighing, Harry reached for his quill with his left hand, and managed to add the Wand Sticking Charm to his list of useful charms in reasonably legible words.

"And since you seem so interested in reading all of a sudden, I suggest you read this." Snape threw a heavy book down in front of Harry, who stared at the title with wide eyes. 

_Death By Wand_

Harry swallowed. "Are those curses, sir?"

Snape nodded in response as he sat down in a chair opposite Harry. 

"I have no interest in learning curses, Professor."

"I don't expect you to cast them. In fact, if I ever catch you casting any of them, expulsion from Hogwarts will be the least of your problems. However, you should know about them, so you finally understand what threats await you, and why it's so important you learn to defend yourself, and that seemingly simple defensive charms are not to be taken lightly. Now read it!"

Lowering his gaze, Harry gave a nod, and opened the book. The descriptions of the curses were horrible, but the drawings depicting their effects were even more gruesome. There was a whole chapter dedicated to curses of the skin. Strip your enemy's skin off with a single curse. Burn their skin off. Melt their skin off. Cut their skin off. 

When Harry started reading chapter 4, curses of the blood, his wand suddenly clattered to the table. He glanced over the descriptions to boil someone's blood, turn it to acid, set it on fire, and turn it to stone, and then he'd seen enough for his liking. Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. 

"Sir?" Slipping his glasses back on, Harry looked at Snape, who was reading an ancient-looking potions tome.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Do you know any of these curses?"

Snape glanced up at him, his eyes unreadable. "Some."

"Oh."

"They're dark magic. The darkest of magic. Once you've cast them a number of times, your magic will become unbalanced, and you'll become even more susceptible to dark magic. It's a downward spiral, which is why you should never attempt any of them."

"I've cast the Cruciatus Curse at the Ministry," Harry said. Snape narrowed his eyes. "But it didn't really work. Not much happened."

"I should expect not."

"Is it addictive? Dark magic?"

Snape thought for a moment. "I suppose you can call it that."

"Right. I'll stick to defensive charms, then."

"See that you do." Snape glanced down at his book again, but after a moment he looked up again. "Have you ever cast the Disillusionment Charm, Potter?"

Harry shook his head. 

"Perhaps you should learn it, since that convenient cloak of yours won't always be at hand. Get up."

Harry was happy enough to obey Snape. Casting charms sounded a lot more fun than reading that book had been. 

"You can cast it on yourself, but it's easier to learn by using it on someone else. Stand still." Snape rounded the table and halted in front of Harry. He rapped his wand on top of Harry's head. "Abstrudo Corpus!"

The same cold, trickling sensation Harry'd felt the year before when Moody had cast it on him slid down his body. He glanced down and saw that his body had taken on the same colors and structure as his surroundings.

"Your turn." Snape stood still, and Harry slowly raised his wand. He wasn't sure how hard to hit Snape on the head, and he didn't want to give Snape an excuse to get angry with him, so he settled for a slight tap. 

"Abstrudo Corpus!"

A shimmer of light danced around Snape for a few seconds before it vanished, and Snape remained looking very much like himself.

"Again, Potter! And harder this time. I'm not made of glass."

Gritting his teeth, Harry whacked Snape on the head with his wand. "Abstrudo Corpus!"

Snape's body slowly took on the colors of the table and wall behind them. "Better," Snape said, examining his own arms. 

Grinning, Harry stepped back and walked across the room, his shadow trailing behind him. "Now you see me," he said, and pressed himself against the wall and stood perfectly still. "And now you don't."

"No, but I can still smell that atrocious shampoo of yours," Snape said from somewhere on Harry's right. Harry suspected Snape was standing against one of the bookshelves. 

"Is there something to mask my scent?" Harry asked, annoyed Snape had brought up his bloody shampoo again. 

"Finite Incantatem," Snape said, and Harry's body returned to normal. Harry returned the favor, once he'd located Snape, who seemed to take pleasure in leading Harry around the room for a few moments. 

"Read this," Snape said, pointing at the Potions book Harry had selected that morning. "You'll learn there is a potion that masks human scents."

"Can I brew it?"

"I highly doubt that. However, if you meant to say 'May I brew it, Professor Snape', then the answer is yes. You may try it tomorrow. Now, take these books," Snape pushed the pile he'd put together across the table to Harry, "and get out of my sight. I've had enough of your company to last me the rest of the afternoon."

Harry rolled his eyes, and grabbed the books. 

"Dinner will be served at seven. After that, we'll continue with your Occlumency lessons."

"You're cooking?" Harry asked, surprised. 

Snape narrowed his eyes. "In case you'd forgotten, Potter, I am a Potions master. I can brew the most intricate poisons. I'm quite sure I'll manage to put together something as trifling as a stew."

Pursing his lips to prevent himself from snickering, Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. See you at seven." He made his way to his bedroom, curious about the books Snape had given him, but not curious enough to resist a few minutes of quality time spent with the November issue of _Polish Your Broom_.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry was driven out of his bedroom at ten to seven by his rumbling stomach. When he entered the kitchen, he saw Snape stirring a large pot over the stove.

"Were you able to identify the potion we discussed this afternoon?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, seating himself at the table. He had spent the last two hours reading the defensive potions book. "It looked rather complicated."

"It is complicated." Snape ladled some sort of stew onto two plates. "It's not even part of Hogwarts' curriculum, as it's only used for extreme stealth. But in your case, it's a useful potion to know."

Harry watched Snape carry two steaming plates to the table and seat himself to Harry's right. "Eat up now."

Glancing between his plate of stew and Snape, Harry pulled out his wand. "Toxicum Acclaro!"

No colored mist appeared around his supper, so Harry filled a spoon and held it up to his nose to sniff it. Snape observed him quietly, but he seemed amused rather than annoyed.

"It smells like carrots and beef, so I'm guessing it's safe to eat," Harry said, and took a bite. 

"So it does," Snape said, and added as an afterthought, "Of course, the poison of the spitting cobra is tasteless and odorless, and when served in the right dosage it will kill a grown man within twenty minutes."

Choking on his mouthful, Harry gave Snape a venomous glare. 

"Then again, were I to poison you for a second time, it'd be rather predictable, don't you agree?" Snape took a small bite, and swallowed it after chewing it with care. "And the whole point of poisoning you the first time was to teach you to become better aware of your surroundings and your own actions. I daresay that lesson has sunk in, much to my surprise. I hadn't expected anything to get through your thick skull after only one attempt."

Harry thought for a minute, and concluded that was Snape's way of saying his supper was safe to eat. He swallowed, and ate a few more bites. 

"It tastes good. Could do with a bit more pepper, perhaps," Harry said with a polite smile. He knew it was good manners to compliment the cook. 

"Actually, it couldn't. Eating spicy food influences your sense of smell, and I need my sense of smell to be perfect in my line of work."

"Ah. I hadn't considered that."

"I'm not surprised."

Harry snorted, and they continued their meal in silence. After they were done, Harry cast a spell to clean the dishes, and they retired to the drawing room for Harry's Occlumency lesson.

As Harry followed Snape inside the room, he realized he hadn't made a new memory to show Snape. In fact, he hadn't even thought about his plan the whole day. He'd been too busy learning things. Hermione would be proud of him, Harry thought with a silent snicker. 

"Wand out, Potter."

During the first two rounds, Harry managed to block Snape from his mind longer than the day before and he also managed to stay on his feet. 

And then it was time for their third round, and Harry knew that during their previous lessons he'd always shown Snape his inappropriate memories during their third round. Was Snape expecting him to do it again? Had Snape created a new memory to shove at Harry?

"Ready, Potter?" Snape's gaze was blank, but Harry could see the corners of Snape's mouth twitch. 

"Just a second." Harry searched through his memories, and came up with the one of him wanking earlier that afternoon, when the potions book had been lying beside him on the bed. Harry thought that'd be a nice detail for Snape to see.

"Ready, sir."

"Legilimens!"

Harry blocked Snape as long as he could, and then pulled up his selected memory. He immediately found a way into Snape's mind, where a new memory awaited him. Snape lying on a bed in a familiar room. Grimmauld Place, Harry realized. Snape lying on a bed with his hard cock in one hand and the issue of _Polish Your Broom_ he'd confiscated in the other. 

Snape, touching his thick cock while looking at pictures of one man rimming another man. 

With a slight push, Harry was back in the drawing room, and was pleased to note he was still standing up. Snape had wanked inside Grimmauld Place. That afternoon. Had he gone up to his room right after Harry had? Had they been wanking in separate rooms at the same time?

That thought sent a hot thrill down Harry's body, and he finally glanced up at Snape. 

Watching Harry with a curve of his eyebrow, Snape's lips slowly pulled up in a smirk. And Harry couldn't help himself; he grinned in return. 

"Interesting articles," Snape said, his voice even. 

"Yeah. I'm glad to see you found the magazine useful," Harry said, sounding unsure. 

"Oh yes, quite."

It was suddenly very hot in the room, and Harry pulled at his collar. His ears were burning and his cheeks flushed, and he didn't know what else to say or do. Snape knew and Snape seemed interested, and Harry had trouble remembering why it was so important Snape was interested, because the fact that he was seemed very exciting all in itself. 

"You have one minute, Potter."

"What?" Harry looked at Snape for a moment before remembering what that meant. "Oh. Right. Shit." He ran out of the room, and once in the hallway, he cast a quick Feather Light Feet Charm on himself before rushing up the stairs. 

He grabbed his invisibility cloak, tucked under it, and positioned himself against the wall in the hallway. He waited, counting seconds in his head.

And then the hallway went completely dark.

Before he could stop himself, Harry inhaled a startled breath. Three seconds later, his cloak was pulled off and a hand closed around his wrist like a vice, forcing him to drop his wand. Then a hard body pressed him against the wall, leaving him unable to move. 

"You're far too predictable, Potter," a smoky voice whispered against his ear. 

Harry swallowed. "How did you...er..." He couldn't finish his train of thought, because feeling Snape's entire body pressed against his own was too distracting. His brain seemed to shut down while his cock took over, giving an interested twitch, much to Harry's horror. 

"You went for your cloak. Very predictable. And you relied solely on your sight," Snape said, his breath hot against the side of Harry's throat. "Once I took your sight away, you were helpless and easy prey."

"But you couldn't see me."

"But I could hear you breathing. And I smelled you." Snape's nose brushed over Harry's hair. 

Harry dropped the back of his head against the wall in defeat. He'd lost again, and that irritated him to no end. "I hate it that you can smell me, just because I shower every morning. You know, you don't exactly smell like roses."

Snape chuckled, the sound heavy in the darkness around Harry. "That's exactly your problem, Potter. You don't know what I smell like. I memorized your scent a long time ago. Even without your obtrusive shampoo, I can identify you solely by scent."

"So, what is my lesson? I should smell you?"

The hand around Harry's wrist disappeared, and Harry's fingers fell against Snape's arm. 

"You should memorize my scent. Tell me what I smell like."

Slowly, Harry leaned his face forward. The tip of his nose brushed against warm skin, Snape's throat, and he felt thick hair touching his forehead. Then his lips met the fabric on Snape's shoulder, and Harry rested them there while he inhaled deeply. 

"You smell like a Potions classroom."

"Come, Potter. You can do better than that."

His breathing hitching, Harry rubbed his nose over Snape's shoulder until it touched his throat again. He inhaled. 

"Smoke," Harry whispered, and without even realizing what he was doing, he tightened his fingers around Snape's arm. 

"Yes, what else?" 

Harry inhaled, pushing his nose deeper into the curve of Snape's neck, his lips now touching the soft skin there. "Something...fresh...lemon."

"Soap," Snape said, and Harry felt lips against his temple. 

"And something...heavy...musky."

"My own scent. Memorize it."

Leaning his cheek on Snape's shoulder, Harry inhaled and inhaled, until his entire body seemed flushed with Snape's scent. He couldn't move, didn't want to move, and he leaned against Snape, feeling helpless in the darkness and confused about Snape's body pressed so close, so close. 

"Do you now understand how important your senses are? There is more, much more, than just your sight."

"Yeah."

"There is sound." Snape's voice tickled Harry's ear. "There is scent." Snape's nose touched Harry's throat. "And there is touch." The tips of Snape's fingers caressed Harry's cheek, and Harry jerked, surprised by that sudden sensation. 

And then the sensations were gone as Snape stepped back, and Harry felt bereft of warmth and shelter. 

"That will be all for this evening. Tomorrow morning at ten, you'll join me in my workroom to assist me, as we agreed this afternoon."

The lights came back on, and as he blinked his eyes, Harry saw Snape's back disappear inside his bedroom. After taking a few deep breaths, Harry picked up his wand and cloak, and stepped inside his own room. He felt disoriented and he wasn't sure what had just happened. The only thing he did know was that he had a raging erection that needed immediate attention.

*~*~*~*~*

When Harry went downstairs for breakfast the next morning, he felt rather nervous. His stomach was in knots and his heart refused to settle down. He'd played out their intimate encounter in the dark hallway time and again in his bed, as he stroked himself to his climax. And after that, he'd dreamed about it. He'd dreamed about Snape's scent and Snape's touch, and about rubbing himself against Snape's body until he came. He woke up with sticky boxers.

And now he had to face the man again. But Harry was brave, or so he told himself, so he entered the kitchen with his head held high and his stomach in his shoes, but the kitchen was empty. Harry fixed himself a sandwich, and forced it down, which settled his stomach just a bit. 

Then he approached the cellar, gathering every bit of courage he thought he had. He knocked on the door twice. 

"Enter."

Harry did, and walked down the stairs until he found himself in a room filled with two tables, several cauldrons, and Snape. 

"Good morning, sir," Harry said, looking everywhere but at Snape. 

"Did you bring your book?"

"Yeah." Harry held it up. He'd remembered that much, despite all the distractions. 

"You'll find the necessary ingredients to your right. You'll need the morning to get the potion brewing. Then it needs a few hours to simmer. I suggest you spend that time searching for a night vision charm I know is in one of your books."

"Yes, sir." Harry opened his book on the correct page, and started crushing the dried puffapods. The powder in his mortar drifted up, tickling his nose, and Harry quickly turned away to sneeze. 

"Potter."

"Yeah?" Harry rubbed his nose, and looked at Snape, who stood behind the other table. 

"Use this incantation: Contego Pulvis. It will shield the powder in your mortar."

Harry cast the spell with a quick flick of his wand. "Thanks."

"It's third year material," Snape said, sneering. "You should have known it by now."

Feeling like an idiot, Harry went back to the puffapods. From the corner of his eye, he saw Snape's head snap up. 

"Are you expecting company, Potter?"

"No." 

"Because someone just activated our Floo."

"Maybe Dumbledore --"

"No." Snape reached for his wand, and Harry quickly followed his example. "Stay behind me."

Nerves fluttering through his chest, Harry followed Snape out of the cellar. Once they were in the hallway, they heard noise coming from the kitchen. Harry wanted to look around Snape, but Snape's arm held him back. They walked towards the kitchen with careful steps. When they stood in front of the closed door, they heard several voices talking. 

"It sounds like the Weasleys," Harry whispered. 

Snape glared down at him, as if it were Harry's fault they suddenly had a kitchen full of unexpected guests. Harry shrugged in response. 

The door opened, and Harry stared into Mr Weasley's face. "There you are. Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry blinked in surprise. 

"It's your birthday?" Snape asked between clenched teeth. 

"Er...I'd forgotten it was today, sir."

"And you deemed it necessary to invite people without informing me?"

"Don't be so harsh on him, Severus," Mr Weasley said, stepping back from the door. "Harry didn't know we were planning to throw him a surprise party. Come in, you two. There's cake."

Harry saw Ron, Ginny, the twins, Hermione and Mrs Weasley standing around the kitchen. Even Bill was there, giving Harry a wide grin. "Happy birthday, Harry!" they all said in unison. 

"A surprise party?" Snape said, obviously annoyed.

"I had no idea, sir. Honestly. They've never thrown me a party before. " Harry glanced from Snape to the rest, and smiled at them. "Thanks."

Mr Weasley waved them in, though Snape seemed far less eager than Harry to brave a room filled with Weasleys. Harry spotted a large birthday cake on the table, with burning candles. Sixteen, he guessed. But he also spotted several trunks stacked near the wall. A sharp intake of breath told Harry Snape had seen those as well. 

"What is the meaning of those?" Snape gestured at the trunks.

Mrs Weasley looked rather put out. "Those are our belongings. We'll be staying here for the rest of the summer."

"You will do no such thing!" Snape bellowed. Harry flinched at the explosion of fury in Snape's voice. 

"Severus!" Mrs Weasley looked angry, but she had nothing on the death glare Snape sent in her direction. "Dumbledore told us you two are staying here by yourself. Harry will need looking after. He needs his friends."

"The last thing the boy needs is coddling! Nor does he need a flock of teenagers to distract him! The boy needs to learn the things that will help him stay alive!"

"What right have you to decide on Harry's --"

"No, what right have you?" Snape shouted. "Dumbledore has placed the boy under my supervision and I will decide what is good for him. You will not interfere with my teaching or question my judgment in any way!" 

Mrs Weasley looked like she wanted to hex Snape to pieces, and Snape seemed close to using an Unforgivable or two. 

Harry felt torn. He was glad to see his friends, and he was even happier they'd remembered his birthday, seeing as how he had forgotten it. But he also knew that if his friends and their family came to stay with them, he'd have far less energy to spend on his lessons with Snape. The decision was easy to make, and strangely enough, his plan didn't even weigh in. 

"Please, stop!" Harry inhaled a deep breath, and looked between Snape and Mrs Weasley. "Snape is right," he said, and ignored Mrs Weasley's affronted look. "Professor Snape is right. He's been teaching me Occlumency and defense for the last couple of days, and we're making very good progress. We really can't use any distractions. I appreciate the surprise party, though."

The room filled with strained silence, until Mr Weasley cleared his throat. "Well, that's settled then. We'll have your party today, and then we'll return home."

Harry glanced at Snape, who gave him an almost invisible nod. 

"Okay, thanks," Harry said. 

"But," Mrs Weasley started, advancing on Harry. "You're all alone in this big, old house."

"I'm not alone."

Mrs Weasley enveloped him in a hug. "But will you be all right by yourself?"

"Yeah. I'm all right. I'm learning things. Useful things." Harry heard Snape snorting behind him. He released Mrs Weasley and smiled at her. "Really, I'll be fine."

"Potter, a word."

Harry followed Snape to the kitchen door. 

"I'll allow this party, seeing as it will be impossible to rid us of these people now they're here. But I expect you back in my workroom this evening, understood?"

Harry nodded, but when he noticed Snape was about to leave, he added, "Sir? Why don't you stay for a while?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"There's cake and tea." Harry gave Snape a lopsided grin. "It's my party. I'd appreciate it if you stayed for a bit."

Snape grimaced, but then he nodded. "Very well. If you want my sunny personality to liven up your party, so be it."

Snickering, Harry turned to his friends. 

"Harry, come on, time to blow out your candles," Ron said, clapping him on the back. "How have you been?"

"All right," Harry said, and admired the colorful cake before he leaned down. He blew with all his might, but the flames didn't even flicker. He heard the twins laughing behind him, and then Mrs Weasley pulled out her wand and extinguished the flames for him. 

"Happy sixteenth birthday, Harry," Hermione said, smiling. 

Harry looked around the room, feeling warm and pleased.

*~*~*~*~*

After Mrs Weasley served out cake and tea, the adults settled on one end of the table, and Harry and his friends on the other, so they could talk amongst themselves. They discussed their O.W.L. results, talked about Fred and George's progress with their shop, and Harry listened to a few amusing tales of life at the Burrow that summer.

 

And then the conversation steered towards Snape, a subject Fred, George and Ron seemed to like in particular. Ginny and Hermione mostly kept quiet, and Harry listened to his friends and glanced at Snape. Across the table, Snape sat between Bill and Mr Weasley, and listened to something Bill was telling him with a crease in his brow while he sipped his tea. 

"It must be awful being locked up here with that greasy git," George said. 

"Yeah, when Mum heard from Dumbledore, she immediately ordered us to pack. I think she's afraid he'll kill you or something," Ron added. 

Harry shrugged, and stared down at the empty cup in his hands. "It's not so bad."

"And now you're stuck with him at your bloody birthday party," Fred said. 

"Actually, I asked him to stay. We've been working -- " 

"Mate, you do understand that you're in an exceptional position to get revenge for the entire Gryffindor House, right?" George asked. 

Harry glanced up at him, confused. 

"You're stuck with Snape. You can sabotage every potion he tries to make," Fred whispered. "In fact, we have a new product we think you'll like. It'll be perfect to prank Snape with, and -- "

"Listen," Harry said, his jaws clenched. "Snape is instructing me in things I need to know. I have no plans to sabotage anything he does."

Ron stared at him in shock. "But Harry, that bastard's treated you like crap for five years."

"Yeah, but he's been all right this summer." Harry shrugged. He hated to disagree with his friends when it came to Snape, but the whole conversation was making him uncomfortable and annoyed. He wished they'd stop it already. 

"What's he been teaching you?" Hermione asked, obviously trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. 

"Useful stuff. Defense charms. Stealth. Occlumency. And he's agreed to tutor me in Potions."

"Potions?" Ron made a face as if the word left a foul taste in his mouth. 

"Harry, who cares about Potions?" George urged. 

"That's just school stuff. Besides, we can teach you all the magical tricks you need to know," Fred said, patting Harry on his knee. "We're telling you, this is the perfect opportunity to make Snape's life just a bit more miserable -- "

"Shut up!" Harry jumped to his feet, his chair falling backwards. "What part of there is a Dark Lord out there who wants to kill me don't you understand?"

Harry's friends stared up at him in shock, but Harry wasn't quite done yet. He was fuming. "What part of I need to learn these things that will keep me alive don't you understand? What part of Snape is giving up his fucking holidays to help me don't you understand? How many more people have to die before you understand this isn't a stupid game? If I had taken all this just a bit more seriously last June, my godfather would still be alive! And now you're expecting me -- "

_Smoke. Lemon. Heavy musk._

Harry glanced over his shoulder, and saw Snape standing behind him. 

"All done, Potter?"

Licking his lips, Harry swallowed. His mouth had suddenly gone dry. "Yeah. Think so."

"Good." Snape uprighted Harry's chair, placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and eased him back into his seat. Then he focused his narrowed gaze on Harry's friends. "I suggest you simpletons very carefully take in what your friend has just said, and then stop making his life more difficult than it already is."

Keeping his eyes down, Harry turned his face towards Snape's arm, and inhaled quietly. _Smoke. Lemon. Heavy musk._ For reasons Harry didn't understand, Snape's scent so close had a calming effect on him, and he inhaled again, his heartbeat returning to normal. 

"Potter, I have a few potions that need attending. I'll be in my workroom for the rest of the day."

"Yes, sir."

Snape's hand slid off his shoulder, and Harry kept this eyes down until he heard the kitchen door opening and closing. Then he looked up at his friends. 

"Blimey," Ron said, his cheeks pale.

"Harry, you want to open your presents?" Ginny said, offering Harry a bright smile. "Here, start with mine."

 

Harry accepted the small parcel. "Thank you."

*~*~*~*~*

The Weasleys stayed until late afternoon, and much to Harry's relief his friends didn't bring up the subject of Snape again. Instead they focused on simple things like Quidditch and upcoming classes, and Harry enjoyed himself. After the Weasleys left, Harry carried his presents to his room. He'd got a big bag of the twins' merchandise, plenty of sweets and chocolate, homemade biscuits, and two books; one on Quidditch from Hermione and one on magical creatures from Bill.

Harry was exhausted, and he really wanted to take a nap, but he thought Snape might not appreciate him lazing about in his bed during the day. So he opted for a bath. Snape couldn't very well get angry with him for taking care of his personal hygiene, Harry reasoned as he ran the bath. 

Soaking in the tub for a long while, Harry let his thoughts drift from his birthday party to Snape and their lessons. And then he noticed something on the soap dish. Snape's bar of lemon-scented soap. Harry couldn't resist, and he grabbed it, and lathered himself as he inhaled the now familiar scent. He wondered if Snape would notice, and if he did, if he would say something about it. Harry almost hoped he would. 

After he dressed, Harry went downstairs to look for Snape. He found him in the cellar, stirring a large, steaming cauldron. 

"I assume your friends have left?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, settling behind his worktable. "I'll continue with this potion now."

"Leave it. That potion takes too long to brew. You may continue with it tomorrow." Snape wiped his hands on a towel, and handed Harry a scrap of parchment. "Brew that instead."

Harry stared at the ingredients and instructions in Snape's angular scrawl. "What sort of potion is this?"

"Stop asking stupid questions and get to work!"

Glancing up at Snape, Harry wondered what he'd done wrong now. Perhaps Snape was still annoyed with Harry for having a birthday. Harry shrugged, put a cauldron over the fire, and gathered the proper ingredients from the many vials and bowls on his table. 

Determined not to screw up the first potion Snape wanted him to brew, Harry chopped, powdered, measured, stirred, and double-checked everything. Snape kept silent, busy with two cauldrons on his side of the cellar room, and Harry ignored him as he focused on his own potion. 

After nearly two hours, Harry had followed every instruction and he peered into his cauldron curiously. The clear potion seemed rather slimy, and Harry wondered if it was supposed to look like that. He cleared his throat. "I think I'm done, sir."

"Do you think you're done, or are you done?"

Harry huffed. "I'm done."

"Very well. Remove it from the fire and cast a cooling spell on it."

Harry did what he was told, and tried not to tense when Snape appeared beside him. 

"Interesting choice of soap this evening, Potter." Snape glanced down at Harry, his gaze sharp, and Harry felt his cheeks flush. 

"I thought it smelled nice."

"Hmm." Snape leaned closer, his arm touching Harry's and his nose and lips brushing across Harry's hair. "It's certainly an improvement over that saccharine smell you've carried for the last few days."

"I'm just trying to be less predictable," Harry said. It was the only thing he could think of to say, since he didn't really understand why he'd used Snape's soap in the first place. 

Snape didn't comment any further, and inspected the potion. He looked at it from several angles, lifted the ladle and watched how it oozed back into the cauldron, and finally scooped some out and rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. 

"Congratulations, Potter. You've brewed a near-perfect lubricant."

Harry wasn't sure what shocked him the most. Snape giving him a compliment on his potion, or the fact that Snape had made him brew a lubricant. 

"Though the structure leaves something to be desired. I suggest cooking the dandelion stems a few minutes longer."

"Yes, sir."

"Notes!"

Harry scrambled for the nearest quill, and added Snape's suggestion to the parchment. 

"Now, a good brewer always tests his potions," Snape said, turning towards Harry. "Can you think of a purpose for this potion?"

"Er..."

"We haven't all evening. Surely you must have learned something from those magazines you've been perusing so intently?"

His cheeks burning, Harry glanced around the room. He suddenly noticed how small the cellar really was, and how close Snape was standing. "It's...er...used for sex, sometimes. I think."

"Very good. This potion is my own creation. It doesn't just lubricate, it also enhances the sensation. It's especially pleasurable when used during masturbation. How do you suggest testing it?" Snape tilted his head, his gaze daring. 

Harry wasn't sure what Snape had just said, just that whatever words Snape had uttered had gone straight down to his cock. He shuffled on his feet. "Take some with me to my bedroom?"

"Hmm." Snape seemed to consider Harry's answer, tapping an index finger against his lips. "But then I won't be able to judge the merits of your work. That won't do. You'll just have to test it here."

Harry's mouth sank open. "You want me to...here?"

"Come now, Potter. It's not as if I haven't seen it all before." Snape's dark eyes glittered, and Harry had trouble breathing. 

He stared at Snape. There were several alarm bells ringing in his head. This was Snape after all, who had taken great pleasure in humiliating Harry in the past. 

"Do try to be mature." Snape inched closer to Harry. "With the things we've already shared," Snape touched Harry's temple with a finger, "there certainly should be a proper level of understanding between us."

Harry licked his lips and remembered his plan. This was the perfect opportunity, he knew. This would get him the revenge he wanted so badly. This would make everything right. And Snape's voice so close made his skin tingle and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a pleasant shiver ran down his body. 

"It's only a small step from seeing it in your mind," Snape closed his fingers around Harry's wrist, and raised Harry's right hand, "to seeing it right here. Are you man enough to take that step, Potter?" Snape dipped Harry's right hand in the clear lubricant.

Feeling the potion on his skin had a most peculiar effect. It hardened his cock even further, and Harry looked into Snape's eyes and tried to see ridicule there, but he couldn't find it. Snape seemed perfectly serious, and Harry was too aroused to question it. 

"Just relax." Snape gave Harry a gentle push until Harry felt the wall behind him. "And show me what you've been teasing me with for days now." 

This was possibly the most surreal experience Harry'd ever had. It was without a doubt the most arousing. Snape wanted to watch Harry touch himself, pleasure himself. Even if that development hadn't fit perfectly into his plan, Harry thought he'd still have agreed with it. The idea of dropping his trousers and stroking his cock in front of Snape was scorching and almost made him come right there and then. 

"All right." He didn't look up at Snape, who stood only four feet away, and he leaned back against the wall. He lowered his zipper and wanted to pull his erection out with his left hand, but Snape interrupted him. 

"Drop your trousers. You don't want to get them dirty."

Swallowing, Harry popped the button on his trousers, and wriggled until both his trousers and boxers lay puddled around his ankles. 

"And lift your shirt. I'll need to take a good look to judge your skills."

Harry obeyed, and looked up at Snape, aware he stood there exposed, half-naked, his cock erect and his sac tense. He curled his fingers, the lubricant slippery against his skin. "I don't usually use this kind of stuff," he said, thinking it was important he mentioned that, in case he'd do something wrong. 

"It's not necessary to use to find pleasure with yourself, but I'm positive you'll find the experience inspiring."

"Right." Harry wrapped his hand around his hard flesh, and tipped his head back until it balanced against the wall and he could stare at Snape with hooded eyes. He stroked, once, and gasped at the intense feeling it produced. Much more intense than when he normally touched himself. "Oh yes, I see what you mean."

"Take your time. You'll not want to rush this exploration." Snape was leaning back against the table, his arms crossed over his chest and his narrowed gaze raking over Harry's body. 

Harry stroked faster, licking his lips and trying to keep his hips still. Snape was watching him wanking. Snape had already seen him wanking in his memories, but this...this was _real_. 

Faster, his fingers tightening around the base of his cock and his thumb stroking his glans, teasing the slit. Harry's breathing was deep and rasping, and he wished he could see Snape do the same thing. Just like they'd done with their memories. 

"Sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Perhaps," Harry swallowed, and eased his strokes for a moment so he could concentrate on his voice, "perhaps you should test the potion yourself. I mean, you're the expert. I may have done something wrong, but how am I to tell?"

Snape's lips curled up in a feral grin. "What a remarkably intelligent suggestion, Potter."

"Thanks," Harry breathed, finding it hard not to grin smugly in reply. 

Snape's fingers searched for the buttons on his robe, popping them until the garment fell open around him, revealing a black shirt and trousers. Snape only lowered his trousers far enough to pull out his thick cock and heavy sac, and Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning at the sight. 

God, this was real. They had their cocks out, they were touching themselves. Hell, if Harry leaned over and reached out his hand he could touch Snape. Close, intimate, yet controlled, much like Snape's whole presence had felt the last few days. 

Snape scooped up some of the lubricant and wrapped his hand around his cock, precise, as if he were holding a ladle to stir a potion. His strokes were similar, never rash like Harry's, but guarded, holding back, as though he were afraid to give in. 

Harry mimicked the way Snape held his wrist and the way Snape moved his palm, until stroking himself felt different enough he could imagine Snape was touching him. He wondered what Snape's cock felt like, how much heavier it was than his own when weighed against his palm. Snape's expression didn't betray any pleasure, save for a twitch at his upper lip and a wrinkle between his brow. 

But when Harry stared into Snape's eyes, he saw that all the arousal had accumulated there. Black eyes, pupils dilated to form blazing pools, fixed on Harry. 

Too much. Harry's knees bucked and his sac drew up, and his climax hurtled up, intensified by the lube spread out over his flesh. 

"Fuck, oh fuck," Harry gasped, and drowned in those burning eyes as his release spilled over his hand and onto the floor. 

Snape remained still and quiet, but his hand moved faster and faster, as though it changed from creating a potion to casting curses with the intent to capture and kill. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from Snape's cock, the head dark and glistening. One more stroke, two more strokes, and Snape's semen spurted, but Harry quickly snapped his gaze up to Snape's face. 

Snape's eyes were slits, still staring at him, and Snape's lips had curled up, like an honest smile on anyone else's face, but on Snape it looked unique. 

Harry released his spent prick, just as Snape did the same. "That's a very nice potion," he whispered, worrying his bottom lip. 

Chuckling, Snape nodded his head once. "It seemed...more than adequate."

"High praise," Harry said, hoping Snape understood he was teasing. 

"Indeed." 

Harry stayed silent, unsure of what else to say. He'd never done anything like this before, and he didn't know if he should do something at this point. 

"That will be all for this evening," Snape said, and he sounded like he always did, much to Harry's confusion. Surely something had just changed between them. 

"Be here tomorrow at ten." Snape pulled his trousers up, tucking himself away. 

"Yes, sir." Harry followed his example, after casting a quick cleaning spell on himself. When he was once again dressed, Harry scooted past Snape to the cellar door, not daring to look at Snape again. 

"Potter?"

Harry, his hand on the doorknob, looked over his shoulder at Snape. "Yes, sir?"

"Happy birthday." Snape sounded amused, which made Harry feel warm.

"Thanks." Harry left the cellar, his steps light, though his mind swayed with questions he didn't have any answers to. He needed time to process what had just happened. And he needed to remember his plan. As Harry lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he feared sleep wouldn't come easy that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though Harry's morning tasks had become routine by then, they didn't feel familiar at all. Everything felt different, because with everything Harry did he kept remembering what had happened the night before. 

He stood under the shower and remembered how Snape's fingers curled around his cock. He brushed his teeth and thought of the way Snape's eyes smoldered. He put on his clothes and kept thinking about the unexpected smile around Snape's lips at the moment of his climax. 

Breakfast was no better. In fact, when Harry left the kitchen to go down to the cellar, he didn't even recall eating anything, though his stomach was full. 

He knocked on the cellar door with a trembling hand. 

"Enter."

Snape stood at his worktable, appearing as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Harry walked to his side of the room, and for a few seconds he allowed himself to think that perhaps it had all been a dream. 

Until he saw four stoppered vials standing in the middle of the table. 

"That's your work from last night, Potter. I thought you'd be able to find a use for it."

Harry gently put the vials to the side. "Yes, sir." Snape remembered. Of course Snape remembered, but Harry didn't understand why he seemed so... _normal_ about it.

"Pay attention!"

Startled, Harry looked up. Snape stood on the other side of his table. Harry hadn't even realized he'd been staring off into the distance. 

"This is the list of the potions you'll be brewing." Snape placed a sheet of parchment between them on the table. "Some of these potions will take only a few hours to brew. Others weeks, but that shouldn't be a problem, since you have the rest of the holidays to brew them."

"Yes, sir." Harry picked up the list and read it carefully.

Snape reached behind him and produced a large, dark wooden box, which he placed in front of Harry. "You'll be creating your own private potions supply. Potions which will aid you. Later today, I'll show you a spell to guard this box, so you, and only you can open it."

Nodding, Harry kept his eyes on the parchment. There were at least five different healing potions on it, a burn-salve, a blood-replenishing potion, two poisons Harry hadn't heard of before, Draught of the Living Dead, a few potions Harry wasn't familiar with at all, and there, at the bottom, Polyjuice Potion and Veritaserum. 

Harry blinked up at Snape. "Veritaserum? You're letting me brew Veritaserum?"

Releasing a deep breath, Snape kept quiet for a moment, and then seemed to choose his words with care. "Potter. All these potions serve very specific purposes and may aid you during this war. As I already said, this will be your private potions supply, and you are not to share it with anyone. You are not even to tell anyone of its existence. I'm well aware a potion such as Veritaserum can easily be abused. However, should you ever abuse any of these, you will answer to me personally."

There was no heat or arousal in Snape's black eyes this time as he stared at Harry. Only cold calculation, and Harry nodded timidly. 

"Yes, sir. I'll be very careful with them."

Snape hooked a finger around the lid and opened the box. "Inside you'll find instructions on how to brew each of those potions, plus all the ingredients you need for them. Some of the instructions of these potions, such as Veritaserum, aren't available in any public literature. Keep these instructions safe, understood?"

Harry nodded and stared into the box. There had been a time the sight of all those ingredients and the power that came with them would have made him gleeful and set on revenge against a few choice Slytherins. But Snape's words weighed heavily, and Harry understood this wasn't about school pranks, but about his life. 

"That," Snape pointed at a small stone in the corner of the box, "is a bezoar. I'm positive you'll remember what it's for."

Snickering, Harry picked it up. "Yeah. For antidotes. I'll never forget that lesson."

Snape smirked. "I thought you wouldn't. Now, I suggest you start by brewing the Draught of the Living Dead, and then study the rest of the instructions. The scent masking potion can come later."

"You just don't want me to win," Harry said, offering Snape a grin. 

"You know me too well." Snape turned with a swirl of his robes. "Get to work, Potter."

At the bottom of the box lay a stack of parchment, all filled with Snape's script describing ingredients and instructions. There also was a delicate knife, a mortar and pestle, and a few ladles, both wood and iron. Harry took the instructions out, and then ran his fingers over all the vials and jars of ingredients, admiring them quietly. 

"Stop procrastinating!"

Harry jumped, rattling the box. He sorted through the parchment until he found the instructions for the Draught of the Living Dead, and selected the correct ingredients. When he reached for the cauldron, he noticed where he was standing. 

He was standing in the exact same spot Snape had stood the previous night. Where Snape had pleasured himself, watching Harry. 

Trying to shake that image from his mind, Harry turned and knocked one of the vials of lubricant to the floor with his elbow. 

"That had better not be the aconite," Snape said as he whirled to glare at Harry. 

"No, sir. Just the...er...lube." Harry reached for his wand and cleaned up the mess. "Sorry. I'm a bit distracted." He felt his cheeks burn and wished they didn't. 

Snape watched him, and then smirked. "You'll learn there is time for work, and there is time for play, and they rarely coincide." 

Frowning, Harry thought for a moment. "Then what was last night?"

"An exception."

"I thought you didn't do exceptions." 

"You thought wrong."

Snorting, Harry took out the knife, and started slicing the Ramora fins. "So, I'm guessing I can use the Draught of the Living Dead to dose someone with if I need them incapacitated. That's why I need to brew it, right?"

"Correct."

"You know, if you can take points during the holidays, you can also give them. Just a thought." 

"Don't push it, Potter."

Chuckling, Harry slid the sliced fins into his cauldron, and examined the instructions to make sure he'd get it right. 

They continued their work in silence, though Harry asked the occasional question about the ingredients he was preparing, and Snape answered him in a curt, classroom voice. 

And after a few hours, when his stomach alerted him it was nearly time for lunch, Harry thought that the morning had gone well. Snape remembered, but didn't treat him any differently for it. No ridicule or hateful remarks. Only the professional and – at least for Snape – mild attitude he'd shown Harry since they'd started their summer lessons. 

"Your potion needs to simmer for a few hours," Snape said, lowering the fire under his own cauldron with a flick of his wand. "I suggest we take a break now, and then continue with your charm work."

Harry nodded, and followed Snape to the kitchen. Lunch was a quiet and quick event. Snape, methodical as ever, didn't waste much time preparing a plate of sandwiches while Harry made a pot of tea. They sat opposite each other, and ate without talking. When Harry finished the last of his tea, and really wanted to just sit for ten minutes, Snape got up. 

Their next stop was the library. Harry made to pick up _The Prankster Guide To Tricky Charms_ , but Snape interrupted him with a sharp wave of his hand. 

"We have no time for first year material, Potter. You're to practice the Night Eyes Charm." Snape reached for his wand, closed all the curtains with a single swish, and then pointed it at his own face. "Place the tip against the bridge of your nose, and say firmly: Nocturnus Aspectus."

Harry did as Snape told him, while Snape cast a Nox. The room went dark, and for a moment Harry thought he hadn't got it right. Until faint shapes swam into his vision, black and white, with an eerie green glow around them. He could see the table, the chairs, his own arms reaching out to find his way around the room, and Snape standing to the side, watching him silently. 

"It worked," Harry said, blinking his eyes as he took in the objects around him, familiar and yet not. "This is quite bizarre."

"You'll get used to it. How many fingers am I holding up, Potter?"

Harry glanced at Snape, and saw he had his hands balled into fists and arms crossed. "None. But I can see your smirk, though."

Snape's smirk almost turned into a smile, but Snape looked away at the last moment. "Enough. End the charm."

A few incantations later, everything was back to normal, and Harry wrote the Night Eyes Charm down on his list before Snape could remind him to take notes. 

"There are also a few curses you should master, so you can incapacitate your adversary."

"Curses?" Harry fingered his wand, remembering the horrible curses he'd read in the book Snape had insisted he read. "Why not just cast a Stunning Spell if I want to take someone out?"

"Because, you ignorant child, anyone can end a Stunning Spell," Snape snarled, glaring at Harry. "These curses can only be canceled by the caster. If the caster doesn't end them, they'll have to wear off, which will take at least 24 hours."

"Ah," Harry said, trying not to look too put out. "I didn't know that."

"I hadn't expected you would. Now pay attention." Snape pointed his wand at a side table and transfigured a Chinese vase into a chicken. "First, the Blinding Curse. The incantation is: Occaecare."

"What does it do?" Harry asked, still not sure he wanted to know any such curses. 

"Are you truly this ignorant or are you trying to annoy me?" Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder and pushed him towards the chicken, who stared at them both with wide eyes. "It blinds a person, you idiot. Cast it!"

Harry raised his wand, and said in a small voice, "Occaecare."

A faint yellow light shot from his wand and hovered around the chicken's head a few moments before the chicken's eyes turned strangely light-blue. 

Snape sighed. "Not powerful enough, but you'll have time later to practice. To end it, a simple Finite Incantatem will do, but remember, only you can end it. Now, for the Paralysis Curse, the incantation is: Torustitum."

Worrying his lip, Harry aimed his wand at the half-blind chicken. "Torustitum!"

The chicken fell to its side, and only its head and one leg twitched as it tried to get back on its feet.

"Again, not powerful enough," Snape said, and he sounded rather satisfied Harry hadn't got it right at once. "Not that I expected you to understand the delicacy of casting these curses. When cast perfectly, it paralyzes your adversary from the neck down."

Harry frowned. That sounded familiar. "Is that what you've been casting on me during our defense lessons?"

"You sound surprised. What part of we may use any magic we wish didn't you understand?"

Waving a hand at the chicken, Harry glared at Snape. "This part, obviously."

"Well then, now you know." Snape seated himself at the table. "Notes first, and then you're to practice these curses until you get them right."

As he stared at the poor, paralyzed chicken, Harry was tempted to test his curses on Snape. But as he thought about it, he was forced to conclude the curses may come in handy in a battle. So he ignored Snape, and set out to practice as the obedient boy Snape wanted him to be.

*~*~*~*~*

When it was time for supper, Harry felt drained. Snape had left the library an hour ago, to prepare dinner, and Harry had continued to practice until he'd finally got the curses right. Now he was starving and felt exhausted, and really only wanted to shovel some food into his body before crawling into bed to sleep until morning. But he knew Snape still had an Occlumency lesson and a defense session planned.

Harry transfigured the chicken, which thankfully didn't look as if it had suffered a great deal, back into a vase. He was pleased to note the vase, instead of the blue and green it had been before, now sported bright Gryffindor colors. 

Suppressing several yawns, Harry made his way down to the kitchen, where Snape filled two plates with stew. Harry wondered if that was the only thing Snape knew how to cook, but he didn't dare ask. He didn't have the energy to verbally spar Snape. 

They ate in by now familiar and rather comfortable silence. When Harry put his knife and fork down, Snape cleared his throat. 

"Time for your Occlumency lesson."

Harry sighed. "Can't we just rest for half an hour or so, sir? I'm really tired."

"I should expect so, after casting those curses all afternoon. However, the Dark Lord won't care if you're tired or not when he tries to invade your mind."

"Yeah, I get it."

"However, we can cut our session short and just practice in here. And to not waste any of your energy, I suggest sticking to Occlumency instead of trying to insert any teasers." Snape drew his wand, and leaned back in his chair, observing Harry. 

"I don't have anything to show you that you haven't already seen," Harry said, grinning, and he too grabbed his wand. 

"What? No bathroom trips today, Potter? I can't imagine how you're able to cope with all those pent up hormones." Snape's sneer became teasing, promising, and Harry's cheeks flushed. He quickly looked down. 

"Let's just get this over with, all right?"

"As you wish. Ready?"

Harry nodded, and was hit immediately by Snape's invading force. Even though he was tired and didn't think he could keep Snape off long, he managed to concentrate on blocking Snape for quite a few moments. Perhaps not having to worry about shoving any specific memory in Snape's face did have a positive effect on his abilities. 

Snape pushed harder, and Harry kept his mind clear, kept his memories out of Snape's reach, until Snape finally drew back and ended their connection. 

His hand trembling, Harry lowered his wand and stared at Snape. "I'm making progress, aren't I? It wouldn't hurt you to tell me."

"That would just be stating the obvious," Snape said, tapping his wand against hand. "In fact, if you weren't making any progress at this point, you'd really be the dumbest child ever to attend Hogwarts, and we both know you aren't."

"We do?" Harry asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone. 

"Yes, we both know Longbottom holds that dubious honor."

Gritting his teeth, Harry narrowed his eyes at Snape. "Neville's isn't stupid. He's quite good at Herbology."

"I'm sure the boy knows a great deal about dirtying his hands while playing with plants, however, he doesn't have a clue about any real magic." Snape's eyes narrowed as well. 

"I'm not going to argue with you," Harry said, trying to hold his temper back. "You think Neville is dumb, I know he isn't. He held his own against Death Eaters at the Ministry last June."

"That's not what I heard. Some Death Eaters were quite pleased to see that Longbottom wet himself at his first glance of real trouble."

"Shut up!" Harry yelled, pounding his fist on the table. "Neville never --"

"Legilimens!"

Harry's thoughts whirled through his mind like a tornado, as he'd had no chance to braise himself against Snape. Neville stared at him, blood dripping down his nose and chin. Hermione lay lifeless on the floor. Bellatrix aimed her wand at Sirius. And Sirius fell and fell and fell --

Gasping for breath, Harry slumped forward against the table, his mind numb from the pain looking at those images had caused him. 

"You are making progress. But you're still far from having any real control on your emotions." Snape sounded distant and cold. Harry didn't have the energy to look up at him. 

"You bastard," he whispered against the tabletop. "You fucking bastard."

"I may be a bastard, Potter," Snape said, suddenly sounding very close. Harry realized Snape was leaning over him. "But at least I'm not a Dark Lord set on killing you. Do remember that, and do try to get a grip on your rampant emotions."

Harry heard Snape move away, followed by the sound of glass clinking and liquid flowing. He still didn't have the energy the raise his head, and he was surprised when Snape placed a glass of pumpkin juice in front of his face. 

"Drink that. We will continue with your defense lesson in ten minutes."

Curling his hand around the chilled glass, Harry attempted to sit up. He succeeded after two tries, and drained the juice. Then he slid off his glasses and leaned his face in his hands. 

"I walked straight into that one, didn't I?" he said, more to himself than to Snape. 

"As I've told you before, you are predictable. One choice insult about your friends and you flare up like a Killing Curse."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, and rubbed his palms across his face. "I just get angry and I don't know how to stop it."

"Some would say it's admirable to stand up for your friends," Snape said, sounding pensive. "However, those people don't have to live with the threat of a Dark Lord invading their mind. You need to understand your priorities."

Nodding, Harry put his glasses back on. "Yeah, I understand that. It's just...it's so bloody hard."

Snape chuckled. "I don't think anyone has every claimed it would be easy. I surely haven't."

"How did you learn Occlumency?" Harry looked at Snape, resting one cheek on his hand. 

"The same as you. Through necessity."

"Ah. You're not going to tell me more, are you?"

Snape smirked. "Since this isn't about me, the answer to that would be no."

"I'm not surprised," Harry said, and managed a teasing grin.

"Touché." 

Harry kept quiet and thought about what had just happened. He'd been angry at Snape, furious even, and before he'd have stayed angry with Snape for hours, days. But now his anger had passed the moment he realized what Snape had done, and why he'd done it. Harry stared at Snape, and Snape stared back, still looking very much like the menacing git he'd always been. Snape didn't seem to have changed. Did that mean Harry had?

"You have one minute, Potter."

"Oh, bugger," Harry said, sighing, and hoisted himself up. He threw one last glance at Snape, and rushed out of the kitchen. In the hallway, he cast a Feather Light Feet Charm, and ran up the stairs. But as he reached the upstairs corridor, he realized going for his invisibility cloak was very predictable. He needed to do something Snape couldn't predict. 

Harry looked around the hallway, and saw a door he was sure Snape wouldn't think to look behind. 

Snape's bedroom. 

He slipped inside the dark room, closed the door behind him quietly, and cast a Night Eyes Charm on himself. Then he leaned against the wall and waited, sure Snape wouldn't be able to sneak up on him now. 

Time passed, more than a minute, and Harry didn't hear or see anything suspicious. And then a light shift in the air alerted him and he looked to his right. Snape apparated straight into the room. 

"Occaecare!" Harry said, using the first curse that came to mind, followed three seconds later by Snape's, "Torustitum!"

"I won!" Harry yelled as his paralyzed body fell to the floor. "I cast the first curse. I won!"

"Really?" Snape, moving cautiously since Harry's Blinding Curse had hit him, crouched beside Harry. "I think the purpose of these lessons is to immobilize your adversary." Snape reached down and pried Harry's wand from his limp hand. "Tell me, Potter, who's immobilized? Who is in control?"

"Shit," Harry said, and wanted to kick himself. "You're in control."

"Exactly." Snape tapped both wands against his thigh. "What on earth possessed you to cast a Blinding Curse on someone in a dark room? You already had darkness on your side. It was through your curse I could locate you so quickly, you foolish boy." Snape didn't sound so amused anymore. 

"I dunno. It was the first curse that came to mind."

Snape rolled his eyes. They glowed white in the darkness. 

"How did you find me?" Harry asked. "I was being unpredictable."

"You were. However, you made one vital mistake."

"What?"

"You turned your back to me." 

"Huh?"

Snape inched closer, and placed the palm of his hand against Harry's cheek, his fingers resting on Harry's eyebrow. "In the kitchen, you turned your back to me and gave me every opportunity to cast a Tracking Charm on you."

"Oh, that's just...sneaky."

"Stop frowning, Potter," Snape said, and Harry realized Snape could feel his expression. He relaxed his brow and tried not to notice how hot Snape's hand felt against his face. 

"Does it hurt? The curse?" he asked, to distract himself from Snape's touch.

Snape shook his head. "It only forces me to use different senses." Snape's fingers touched Harry's forehead. "You're sweating," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And your lips are dry." Snape's palm brushed across Harry's mouth.

Harry swallowed, and remembered leaning against Snape in a dark hallway, and seeing Snape stroke himself to orgasm. He felt hot as arousal built in his chest and leaked down to his cock, hardening it. 

Snape's fingers traveled down, touching his Adam's apple before resting just below his ear. "Your pulse is racing. Is this bothering you?"

"No," Harry croaked. He felt helpless, knowing Snape was in complete control of him and could do anything he wanted. And Harry had to admit he very much liked the idea of Snape doing certain things to him. 

"Then why is your pulse this high?" Snape moved his hand down Harry's chest, popped a button on his shirt, and slid his fingers under the fabric. Harry hissed when Snape's fingertips brush across his nipple. "Your heartbeat is out of control. Can you tell me why?"

"Because you're touching me," Harry said, and he wished he could arch his back to feel more of Snape's touch on his nipple. 

Snape's lips curled up. "Do you enjoy being touched like this?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and bit his lip when Snape flicked a finger against his hard nipple. 

"Fascinating." Snape's fingers danced across Harry's buttons, pulling them open one by one until Harry's shirt fell open around him. Snape licked his thin lips, and stroked his hand down Harry's naked chest, and then let it rest under Harry's navel. "And if I were to move my hand lower, Potter, what would I find?"

"Fuck," Harry gasped, trying to stare down his own body. "My cock."

"And is it hard?"

"Yeah."

"Perhaps I should feel for myself." Snape tugged on Harry's trousers, making short work of the button and zipper. 

"Please." Harry strained against the curse, desperate to move, to do something to feel more of what Snape was doing. 

"Please what?" Snape slid his fingers inside Harry's trousers, and splayed them open. He stilled his hand, and Harry wanted to yell at him to do more. 

"Please take this curse off."

One of Snape's fingers sneaked deeper inside Harry's trousers and touched the tip of Harry's cock through his boxers. "I think this is a perfect lesson in control. It would be a waste to end it so soon."

Harry moved his head from left to right. It was the only part of his body he could move, and feeling Snape's fingertip leaning against his cock was driving him mad. "Please take the curse off. I want to touch you, too."

Snape drew circles around the head of Harry's cock. "So you want this to be about pleasure instead of knowledge?"

"I don't care what this is about. I just want you to touch me, there, and I want to touch you back. Fuck, _please._

"For your language alone I should keep you under this curse. This helpless looks suits you, Potter." Snape inched his hand under the waistband of Harry's boxers, and Harry's head shot up when Snape ran a finger along the side of Harry's hard flesh. 

"Oh god." Harry's mouth remained open around a soundless cry. 

"You're about to burst," Snape said, as though he were evaluating the properties of a potion. "So hard, it must be painful by now." His finger teased the head of Harry's cock, smearing the moisture gathered at the slit around in lazy strokes.

"Please, please, please," Harry moaned, and he knew he was begging, but he was too far gone to care. All he wanted was Snape to touch him, stroke him, drive him to his climax. All that mattered was Snape's hand and his cock. 

"Is this what you want?" Snape curled two fingers around Harry's cock and stroked up and down once. "Do you want me to make you come?"

"Yes, _please_."

Snape dropped the wands he was still holding, and grabbed Harry's wrist with his free hand. He raised it between his legs, and even though Harry's hand was limp, he felt Snape's erection press against his useless fingers. 

"And do you want to touch my cock? Do you want to make me come?"

"Oh yeah." Harry stared at his hand positioned between Snape's legs and willed his fingers to move. They didn't, of course, and he snapped his eyes shut when he felt Snape trace his fingers alongside Harry's cock again. 

"Then perhaps we should stop this foolish game and do things properly." Snape released Harry's hand and cock, and reached for his wand. "Finite Incantatem."

Snape's spell didn't just end the Paralysis Curse, it also finished Harry's Night Eyes Charm, and he was surrounded by darkness. Even though he had control over his body back, Harry didn't dare move, and listened to his own panted breaths.

"If you could return the favor," Snape said. It didn't sound as if he'd moved.

Reaching beside him, Harry grabbed for his wand, and touched the tip to Snape's knee. "Finite Incantatem."

"Much obliged." Snape's rustling robes told Harry he straightened himself. A muttered spell later, a handful of candles were lit on Snape's bedside table. Harry blinked against the faint light. 

"Get up and undress." Snape, his eyes again dark and focused, stared down at Harry while he opened the buttons on his robes. 

They were really doing this. They were getting naked together. That thought spurred Harry into action, his arousal and the promise of Snape touching him canceling any doubts he may have had. Besides, this development fit perfectly into his plan, even though Harry didn't find his plan all that important anymore as he got up, shrugged his shirt off, and watched Snape slide off his robes. 

Harry toed off his shoes and socks, and pushed his trousers and boxers down, and then he was naked, exposed, his hard cock erect against his belly. Snape shed his shirt, trousers, underpants and boots, his expression not hinting at any embarrassment, and only his thick cock speaking of his arousal.

Licking his lips, Harry took in Snape's naked body. Tall and lean, pale skin glowing yellow in the flickering candlelight. Harry gathered his courage and reached out his hand, brushing his fingers against Snape's cock. It felt hot against his skin, and he traced the pulsing vein down the length until his fingers found Snape's tense sac. Snape's eyes fluttered, and it made Harry smile and rub his palm against Snape's balls, short, coarse hairs tickling his fingers. 

Snape closed his hand around Harry's elbow, and Harry drew back to look up at Snape. "On the bed," was all Snape said, but he might as well have suggested Harry cast a Killing Curse.

Doing things on a bed made them all the more real, so real it hit Harry with the force of a rogue Bludger. He was about to have sex with a Professor. He was about to have sex with _Snape_. 

But wasn't that what he'd wanted all along? Wasn't that what his plan was all about? Wasn't that what would get him his rightful revenge?

Somehow Harry thought their game had stopped being about revenge a long time ago. 

"Is there a problem?" Snape asked when Harry didn't move. 

Harry shook his head, unsure how to voice his hesitance. "I've never done something like this before," he said, before he could stop himself. He clenched his jaws. 

"I gather you didn't want me to know about your inexperience?" Snape sounded amused. He stepped closer and wrapped his hand around Harry's cock. "I'd have discovered it soon enough," he whispered, pressing his naked flesh against Harry. "Nothing tastes as sweet as innocence."

Gasping, Harry leaned his head back, and Snape attached his mouth to Harry's throat, lips and tongue kissing him so hard, for a moment Harry thought perhaps Snape really was a vampire and those rumors were true after all. Then teeth dragged down his sensitive skin, sending a bolt of electrifying arousal straight to Harry's cock. He felt Snape's cock press against his side, hot and throbbing, while Snape squeezed the base of Harry's erection. 

"Oh, yeah, bed," Harry breathed, thoughts of hard, helpless sex drowning out his earlier doubts. He saw a flash of Snape's smirk as Snape released him, and led him to the bed. 

"Lie down beside me." Snape lowered himself to the sheets, resting on his side. "And take your glasses off."

Harry crawled onto the sheets, placed his glasses on the nightstand, and stretched out beside Snape, giving him an expectant look. He'd seen so many things two men could do together in his magazines, and he wasn't sure what Snape had in mind or how far he was going to take this. Harry wanted to be touched, but there was touching and there was full-blown sex, and the latter sounded just a tad too intimidating. 

"Don't be shy now." Snape placed his hand on Harry's hip, urging him closer. Glancing down between their bodies, Harry scooted closer until the tip of his eager cock touched Snape's. Harry gasped at that odd yet satisfying sensation. 

Snape lowered his hand until his fingers touched Harry's arse cheek, and he gave a pull, so Harry lay flush against Snape's body, their erections pressed together. He felt Snape's irregular breaths against his forehead. 

"Better," Snape whispered, and slid his leg over Harry's hip, tracing his hand up Harry's back until he'd pinned Harry against him. "How is this?"

"Good," Harry managed, his bottom lips trembling as he felt Snape's cock rub across his sac and prick. He inched his own leg between Snape's. "Very good."

"I thought so." Snape's fingers dug into the flesh between Harry's shoulder blades, and hesitantly, afraid to do something wrong, Harry wrapped his arm around Snape's side, finding leverage when he arched his back and bucked his hips, their cocks rubbing together. 

Harry wanted to rest his forehead against Snape's shoulder, but Snape's hand disappeared from his back and closed around his chin. Harry wanted to close his eyes, give into that perfect feeling of his cock touching Snape's over and over again, but Snape's urgent voice stopped him. 

"Look at me, Potter. I want to see your eyes when you come."

"God," Harry moaned, and stared into Snape's black eyes as they moved their bodies together, cocks urgent to find release. The tips of their noses touched, and for a moment Harry thought Snape was going to kiss him, but all Snape did was look at him, devour him with his black gaze until Harry was sure he'd drown in the dark, bottomless ocean he saw in Snape's eyes. 

His skin was slick with sweat, and it slid against Snape's equally slick skin, chests pressing hard together and cocks dragging up and down, sacs teasing against their thighs, and their legs a tangled mess. 

It was the most brilliant thing Harry'd ever done. It was better than flying, it was better than knocking Malfoy on his arse with a well-aimed hex.

Harry clung to Snape, surrendering to his grip, his hands, his cock, and all he could see was the black fire blazing in Snape's eyes, burning him to cinder, until those flames reached his sac, and Harry came with hot, wet spurts against Snape's flesh. 

"Oh god, yes, god yes," he moaned, forcing his eyes to stay open, because he was afraid he'd lose the scorching sensation if he dared close his eyes. "Fuck, yes," he breathed, his hips giving a few final jerks as the last of his climax was forced out of him by Snape's ruthless thrusts. 

Snape released Harry's chin, and Harry buried his face against Snape's throat, feeling limp and yet not wanting to stop. Snape increased his pace, bucking against Harry with fast strokes of his prick, and Harry panted and thought he'd go mad with the sensation of Snape's hard flesh torturing his spent cock. 

Snape's hiss of breath against Harry's hair was the only warning he gave before climaxing, coating Harry's skin with his semen. Snape rode out his orgasm with slow, tired thrusts, and finally he stilled, and Harry slumped against him. 

They lay together, arms and legs still holding each other close, and Harry wasn't sure if this was normal, if this was what people did after they had sex, and if what Snape and he had done really was sex. 

He looked up at Snape, licking his dry lips, and stared as Snape stared at him. Snape's forehead was shining with sweat, and his normally pale cheeks were tainted with a slight, pink blush. Harry didn't want this, whatever it was, to end, and he tightened his arm around Snape's back. 

And then Snape leaned closer and brushed his lips against Harry's, hesitantly, as if asking Harry for permission. Harry didn't draw back, even though his pulse sped up. He licked his lips again, and the moment his tongue drew back into his mouth, Snape crushed his lips to Harry's to chase it with his own tongue. 

If Harry'd thought their encounter couldn't have got any more intimate, he'd been wrong. Snape's mouth devoured his, tongue brutal, and Harry gave as good as he had, trying to meet Snape's fast pace of lips and tongue. 

Snape's hand tightened in Harry's hair, forcing his face even closer until Harry's lips felt bruised against Snape's teeth. Harry noticed Snape had closed his eyes, and he allowed himself to do the same, and surrendered to Snape a second time that evening. 

Teeth drew back and lips became softer, and Harry realized they were kissing, really _kissing_ , like lovers would. Slow, teasing strokes of their tongues, over and over again, wet and hot and so much better than Cho's kiss had ever felt. Harry thought perhaps this should disturb him, this intimate act with Snape, but it didn't. It felt almost as good as rubbing his cock against Snape's had felt. 

They kissed and kissed and didn't stop for a long time. Snape's fingers stroked through Harry's hair, Snape's nose touched his own when they changed their angle, and Harry moved his lips with eager care, pulling back once in a teasing gesture, only to have Snape's teeth close around his bottom lip and draw him back in. 

With a flick of his tongue against Harry's lips, Snape finally broke their kiss, and Harry blinked his eyes open. Snape's eyes were still black, but looked softer somehow, and Harry released a long, tired breath as he stared into them. 

"Get some sleep, Potter," Snape said, his voice hoarse, as if he'd been screaming insults at his students all day. 

That suggestion sounded very tempting, and Harry leaned his cheek against Snape's collarbone. They were still curled around each other, and Harry briefly wondered if falling asleep like this, spending the entire night in Snape's bed, made their experience even more real than it already was. But Harry was too exhausted to really care. He felt warm and sated, and the thought of leaving Snape's comfortable embrace made him shiver. He pressed closer, and closed his eyes, and let sleep sweep him away as he listened to Snape's calm heartbeat.

*~*~*~*~*

When Harry woke up, part of him was sure he'd find Snape gone. Someone like Snape wouldn't want to be confronted with a teenager in his bed, even if they had done intimate things together. But as Harry blinked his eyes open, letting them get used to the dim light in the room, he saw Snape lying beside him, still asleep.

Sunlight invading around the edges of the curtains illuminated the room, casting them in shadows. They had untangled during the night, but Snape lay only inches away, and Harry was fascinated with Snape's still body and peaceful expression. He reached out and touched Snape's nipple, dark against his pale skin. It hardened under his fingertip, and Snape stirred. 

It made Harry smile and feel devious, and he rubbed the nipple between his thumb and finger. 

"Potter. Still here, I see."

His heart skipping a beat, Harry glanced up, wondering if he shouldn't be there. Snape's eyes were open and his expression was slack with sleep. 

"I thought you'd have run screaming from the room when waking up beside your vile Potions master." Snape's lips twitched, and he stretched his legs, and then draped his arm across Harry's waist. "Surely the sight of me in the morning would be enough to make you see the error of your actions last night."

Harry frowned, staring at Snape. "You are joking," he said, amazed Snape could do such a thing. 

Snape's lips curled up into something that came very close to a smile. "Indeed. It's far too early for any serious conversation. Now, be quiet. I want at least another half hour of undisturbed sleep." Snape closed his eyes and lay still, save for his fingers teasing Harry's lower back. 

The idea of dozing beside Snape was tempting, but Harry was already far too awake. Besides, Snape's nipple still looked hard and inviting. Harry inched closer, and rubbed his thumb over it. 

"Potter," Snape said, his tone warning. 

"You want this."

Snape opened his eyes again, staring down at Harry with a curve of his eyebrow. "And you know this how?"

Grinning, Harry pinched Snape's nipple. "Because you didn't run screaming from the room when you woke up beside me."

Snape snorted. "Perhaps I should remind you this is my bedroom. I can still kick you out."

"You won't." Harry leaned closer and flicked his tongue at Snape's nipple. 

"You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said, though he wasn't at all sure what he was doing. He was surprised he didn't feel more uncomfortable about waking up beside Snape, and about teasing Snape out of his sleep. He felt relaxed, and he didn't think he'd woken up in such a good mood all summer. 

Snape's fingers tightened in Harry's hair and pulled his head away from Snape's chest. "What did I just say about undisturbed sleep?" Snape glanced between their bodies, and grimaced. "Clearly you forgot to cast a cleaning charm last night."

Harry looked down, too, and saw the dried and flaked come on both their bodies. "Me? You told me to go to sleep."

"I recall doing no such thing," Snape said with a stony face.

"Liar," Harry muttered, and wormed his head from Snape's grip so he could attach his mouth to Snape's nipple again. He'd read in one of his magazines nipples were particularly sensitive, and he just wanted to put his knowledge to the test. Or so he told himself as he worried the hard nub with his teeth. 

"Potter, enough. It's rather disturbing that one orgasm at my hands leads to such insolence on your behalf. I'd expected more restraint from you."

Harry drew back and stared at Snape. He wasn't sure if Snape was still joking or not. He sounded very much like his usual self, which wasn't a joking matter at all. 

"Besides, I have no intention of having a repeat performance in this state." Snape sat up, stifled a yawn, and then rose from the bed. "Time for a shower."

And with that Snape walked out of the room, leaving Harry to stare after him and wonder what he'd done wrong. Perhaps Snape just wasn't a morning person. Or perhaps Snape had taken what he wanted from Harry and whatever was happening between them had just ended. That last thought sent a sharp pang through Harry's chest. 

The bedroom door banged open again, and Snape's face came into view. "That was an invitation to join me in the shower, you stupid boy."

"Oh." Harry sat up and smiled while Snape disappeared again. Joining Snape in the shower sounded like a very good idea. Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, and automatically reached for his morning erection. It was painful, since he needed to piss like a hippogriff, so he released it again, and made his way to the bathroom to do just that. 

As he stepped inside the bathroom, Harry was met with one of the most surrealistic scenes he'd ever encountered. 

Snape, standing naked at the sink, brushing his teeth with a purple toothbrush. 

Harry couldn't help himself; he stood in the doorway and stared. 

Plucking the toothbrush from his mouth, Snape glanced at him. "Is something the matter?"

"No." Harry walked towards the sink as casually as he could that early in the day. "It's just, you look so normal. I hadn't expected that."

Snape snorted, and turned on the tap to clean his toothbrush and rinse his mouth. "Really, Potter, had you expected me to be anything else than human? If you cut me, do I not bleed?"

"Huh?"

"And here I thought you were raised by Muggles," Snape said, sounding bored, and he turned to glare at Harry. And Harry noticed something he hadn't seen in Snape's shadowy bedroom. 

On one side of Snape's head, the one he'd slept on, Snape's oily hair had bunched together and stood up wildly, like the branches of the Whomping Willow. 

Harry tried to control himself, he really did, but he couldn't stop from bursting out in laughter. He laughed so hard he had to grab the sink with one hand and curl his other arm around himself. 

"What on earth triggered this juvenile behavior?" Snape asked, indignantly. 

"Your hair," Harry gasped, making a vague gesture with his hand, "is sticking up."

Snape looked as though he wasn't sure whether to join Harry's laughter or hex Harry to tiny bits. Harry tried to stop laughing, but he couldn't, and he reached the point where he got trouble breathing. Then Snape's fingers clenched around the top of Harry's head and forced Harry to look into the mirror. 

If Snape's hair looked like the Whomping Willow, Harry's hair looked like he'd been electrocuted during the night. It stood up on all ends, and Harry immediately snapped his mouth shut and stopped laughing. 

"Indeed," Snape said, and smirked. "Do try to control yourself."

Harry studied his reflection, and noticed his lips. They were swollen and looked slightly bruised. "God, what happened to my mouth?"

"I kissed you," Snape said matter-of-factly, reaching for a small leather purse. "I'd demonstrate it again to remind you, but your breath smells as though a puffskein crawled in your mouth last night and died there. I suggest you brush your teeth."

His cheeks flushing, Harry reached for his toothbrush, and set about brushing his teeth. He watched Snape open the purse and take out an old-fashioned razor, a shaving brush, and a small, metal soap dispenser. Snape brushed a thumb across the stubble on his chin, looked at himself critically in the mirror, and moistened the shaving brush. He lathered it, and soaped up his cheeks, chin and throat. 

And Harry, already finished with his task of cleaning his teeth, couldn't tear his gaze away from Snape. Until Snape met his eyes in the mirror. 

"I...er...need to pee," Harry said, saying the first thing that came to mind, and then he wondered why those always were the dumbest things he could possibly say. 

"I'm sure you're intelligent enough to locate the toilet on your own," Snape said, and started maneuvering the razor across his throat. 

Right. Apparently Snape had no problem with Harry peeing while in the same room. Harry did manage to locate the toilet, and as he relieved himself, he wondered if this was normal for people who'd done intimate things. Who'd had some sort of sex together. After he was done, Harry joined Snape at the sink again. 

"Aren't there spells for that?" Harry asked, remembering how Seamus had demonstrated one to Dean last year. 

"There are, but they are far from comfortable. I prefer to shave manually." Snape rinsed his razor under the water, and continued shaving his chin. 

"Ah," Harry said, looking at his own face in the mirror. "I didn't know that."

"I assume you don't shave yet?"

"No," Harry said, and it made him feel incredibly young to admit that. He ran a finger under his nose. "There's not much there to shave. Ron told me he needs to shave twice a week already."

"That's hardly cause for concern. I didn't start shaving daily until I was almost seventeen."

"Yeah, you're not a real hairy type, are you?" Harry said, eying Snape's chest. It was mostly hairless, save for a patch leading down from his navel to his crotch. 

"And neither are you. Nor will you ever be, is my guess."

"I think I like that."

"So do I," Snape said, and wiped a towel over his face. Harry watched him and wondered if Snape had just reassured him. And if Snape had just said he liked something about Harry. And what had happened to the real Snape and who that man standing beside him could possibly be. They'd had a normal, friendly conversation. Something Harry had never thought Snape was capable of. Or that he was capable of with Snape. 

"Ready for that shower, Potter?"

Harry focused his eyes on Snape. "Yeah," he said, and followed Snape to the shower stall. Snape turned on the taps, and stepped under the warm spray. A moment later, Harry joined him, sighing at the feeling of water washing away old sweat and dried come. Then he noticed how close they were standing. Snape's elbow brushed Harry's shoulder as he ran a hand through his wet hair, and Harry remembered the feeling of Snape's hands on him and Snape's cock against his. 

Harry's cock, which had wilted, sprang back to life, taking an immediate interest in the situation. Snape noticed this, and ran a teasing finger down Harry's chest, stopping an inch above Harry's hardening flesh. 

"You said something about a repeat performance," Harry tried, hoping he didn't sound too desperate. 

"Indeed I did," Snape said, sliding his arm around Harry's waist to pull him closer. "Touch me."

Snape didn't need to elaborate any further for Harry to understand perfectly what he meant. Harry touched his fingers to Snape's cock, which hardened against his palm, and then Harry curled his fingers around it and stroked. He felt Snape's hand close over his own prick, and he wrapped his free arm around Snape to steady himself.

"Squeeze a bit harder," Snape said, and Harry did as he glanced up at Snape. He stared into Snape's eyes, fluttering his eyelids against the water raining down on them, and felt his knees buckle as Snape fisted his cock faster.

"Very good," Snape whispered, and leaned his head down, claiming Harry's lips in a kiss. And Harry returned it, closing his eyes so he only felt what Snape was doing to him. Firm lips moved over Harry's sensitive mouth, and a slick tongue invaded it. Harry teased it with his own tongue, tasting toothpaste and water and something arousing that was Snape. 

He stroked Snape's cock faster, and felt Snape do the same to his prick. Their bodies pressed together, wet and warm, and their arms bumped and cocks touched, and Harry kept his mouth locked with Snape's, unwilling to lose the feeling of Snape kissing him as though he never wanted to release him again. 

Harry couldn't hold off his climax for long, not while Snape worked his cock with expert strokes. His legs trembled and barely kept him upright, so Harry tightened his arm around Snape and came with a shudder. His release coated Snape's hand before the water washed it away. 

"No control whatsoever," Snape said against Harry's lips, though there was little malice behind his words. Harry was forced to agree with him as he tried to stay on his feet. When his orgasm had passed, he remembered he had Snape's cock in his hand, and he resumed stroking and squeezing as best as he could.

His mouth seeking Snape's again in a kiss, Harry concentrated on the feeling of touching Snape's cock. Definitely different than stroking himself. Far more arousing. Their kiss was gentler now, and Snape appeared to have a talent for holding his climax off, so much so, Harry's wrist threatened to give up. Harry tried to communicate through his lips and tongue he wanted Snape to come, and Snape, after evading Harry's urgent tongue a few times, gave in. 

Snape's cock pulsed, and Harry stroked faster and squeezed tighter, and heard Snape's sharp intake of breath through his nose. Then hot semen spurted over his hand, and Harry felt Snape relax against him. Harry drew back from their kiss, released Snape's spent cock, and looked at Snape. 

"I assume that was properly satisfying?" Snape asked, a lazy drawl to his voice. 

"Oh yeah. Very satisfying," Harry said, offering Snape what he knew was a really dumb grin. 

"Good. Then I trust you'll have no problems keeping your mind focused on your work the rest of the day. We'll start brewing Veritaserum today." Snape released Harry, took a small step back, and reached for his bar of soap. 

"Veritaserum?" Harry asked, feeling quite intimidated by the idea of brewing that potion. 

"Hmm." Snape lathered his chest and ran the bar of soap over his softening cock. "I'll assist you, since it's a delicate potion to brew."

Harry was relieved to hear that, but tried not to show it. He grabbed his bottle of shampoo, and got an idea. "Why don't you use this? I used your soap yesterday."

"Five points from Gryffindor for daring to suggest I use that ridiculous concoction."

Snorting, Harry poured a generous dollop of shampoo on his own hair, and ignored Snape's disgusted look.

"Fruity, isn't it?" he said with a bright smile he knew would annoy Snape. 

"Yes, almost as fruity as you are, Potter." Snape stepped out from under the spray, and grabbed a towel. "Meet me for breakfast downstairs. And don't dawdle. We have much work to do." Snape wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom. 

Their time for play had ended, Harry thought, and he rinsed his hair, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment he felt. After finishing his shower, Harry returned to his own bedroom, and found his clothes, glasses and wand lying on his bed.

Sighing, he sat down and toweled his hair dry. This was the first occasion he'd got that morning to think about what had happened. 

A lot had happened. And it had been a much better experience than Harry'd thought it would be. He'd enjoyed doing those things with Snape quite a bit. And if he were really honest with himself, he'd loved everything about it. He'd loved feeling Snape against him and acting so comfortably around Snape and exchanging playful banter with Snape and --

Harry noticed the picture of Sirius he kept on his nightstand. A young Sirius, at his parents' wedding, grinned and waved at him, and Harry felt a cold wave of guilt wash over him. 

What had he been thinking? How could he love doing anything with the man who'd got Sirius killed?

Harry threw the damp towel to his bed and bit his lip. He'd got carried away, that was it. He was young and horny, so it wasn't a surprise he'd enjoyed feeling a hand around his cock. 

But he had a plan to stick to. And he was stupid for ever losing sight of it, just because Snape happened to be a really good kisser.

*~*~*~*~*

After breakfast – which had been as quiet and methodical as the rest of their shared meals – Harry followed Snape down to the cellar. Surrounded by cauldrons and mysterious potions ingredients, Snape looked very much like the Potions master he'd always been. There wasn't anything left of the teasing, mild man Harry'd woken up next to that morning.

Which was probably for the best, Harry reasoned. It made it easier to forget how much he'd liked the things he'd done with Snape. 

"Get the proper ingredients out, Potter."

There. That sounded a lot like the Snape Harry was familiar with. That sounded like the bastard who'd sent Sirius to his death. 

"Pay attention!"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and opened his box. He placed the instructions for Veritaserum on the table, and sorted through the bottles and vials to get the ingredients he needed. Then he grabbed an empty cauldron and hung it over the fire. 

"Potter!" Snape sounded impatient. "I don't know why I even bother to try to teach you anything when you can't even follow simple instructions!"

Harry was taken aback; he hadn't even started brewing yet and already Snape was yelling at him. He studied the instructions again. 

"Oh," he said, when he read Snape's first sentence under the ingredients list. He took the cauldron off the fire. "It says it needs to be brewed in the shell of a fire crab."

Snape gasped in mock surprise. "Really?"

Despite his mild annoyance, Harry snickered at Snape's theatrics. "Sorry, sir. I just assumed -- "

"Ah!" Snape stalked closer to Harry. "That's where you went wrong. When brewing potions, you never assume anything. You follow instructions. You make sure you're always reading one sentence ahead in your instructions, so you won't accidentally assume anything and destroy your work."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and thought that was actually pretty good advice. Something Snape should have told him in his first year. It would have saved Harry a great deal of messed up potions. "So now I need the shell of a fire crab. Do I have one?"

"No, but I do," Snape said, and reached under the table. He produced a pearly-black shell, the size of a large Quaffle, covered with red, yellow and blue gemstones. 

"Wow," Harry said in true admiration. 

"This is very expensive and very rare," Snape said, lowering the shell to the table with care. "If you drop it, I will break your neck, understood?"

Harry nodded. He had no doubt Snape meant what he said. 

"Good, now place it over the fire and carry on with the instructions."

Putting his hands around the shell gently, Harry turned towards the fire and prayed he wouldn't drop the shell. He managed to place it over the flames without breaking it, and he released a deep breath. Then he studied the next three sentences on the parchment. He needed 100 grams of jobberknoll feathers, and he had to boil them in half a liter of dragon blood. He grabbed the jar of feathers. 

"And that's 100 grams exactly, Potter," Snape said, standing on the other side of the table, observing Harry's every move. "Not 99, not 101, but 100 grams."

"Yes, sir." Harry weighed the feathers on his brass scale, and added them to the heated shell. Then he measured half a liter of dragon blood, and added that as well. 

"It needs to boil for three hours, and you should reduce the heat by ten percent every half hour until it simmers," Snape said, as Harry gazed at the parchment, nodding. "You'll find the correct spell to do so in your instructions. You can now carry on with slicing the clabbert spleen."

"Right." Harry looked at the shell to make sure the mixture was boiling. It was, and it smelled something awful, like rotting fruit. "Who comes up with this stuff?"

"Hmm?" Snape replied vaguely. 

Harry reached for the jar of clabbert spleens. "I mean, who invents this stuff? And how do they invent it?"

"All these ingredients have magical properties. It's a matter of experimentation."

"I get that," Harry said, grabbing his knife to cut the spleen. "But how do you decide what to experiment with? Do you think, oh what a lovely little magical bird, let me pluck it and put its feathers in the shell of a fire crab and then add dragon blood and see what happens and hope it won't explode in my face and give me nasty third-degree burns."

Snape gave a snort of laughter, and it was such a foreign sound, Harry dropped his knife in surprise. Snape steadied himself and looked at Harry with amused eyes. 

"Inventing potions is a process of trial and error. And, in some cases, death or glory."

Harry considered that. "Have you ever invented a potion?"

"I have fabricated a few antidotes in the past, yes."

"Really?" Harry was impressed. "That sounds difficult."

Snape's lips tugged up into a smirk. "It's not when you've invented the poisons first."

Staring at Snape with his mouth opened, Harry wasn't sure what to say in response. 

"You'll be brewing a few of them later this week," Snape said, and narrowed his eyes as he looked down at Harry's hands. "For Merlin's sake, boy, the instructions say slice the spleen, not butcher it!"

Harry bit his lip and observed the bloody mess on the table in front of him. 

"Here, let me show you." Snape rounded the table, and stopped right behind Harry. He stood so close, Harry felt Snape's body against his own, and he was instantly haunted by memories of the previous night. 

Snape shoved the mauled spleen to the side, and grabbed a fresh one. "Slicing is all in the wrist, Potter." He closed his hands over Harry's, and Harry was reminded of the way Snape's hand had closed over his cock. And his cock remembered, too, and hardened in his trousers. 

"Move your wrist up and down, yes, just like that," Snape said, his voice lowering as his breath tickled Harry's ear. He guided Harry's hands, and all Harry could think of was Snape's hand moving up and down over his cock.

Licking his lips, Harry glanced to the side, his face suddenly very close to Snape's. He was going by instinct now, and his instinct – or perhaps it was his cock, he couldn't be sure – told him this was the perfect opportunity to kiss Snape. So he did.

Harry pressed his mouth to Snape's, and darted the tip of his tongue out to lick Snape's bottom lip. After a moment of hesitation, Snape parted his lips and allowed Harry access. As soon as Harry felt Snape's tongue teasing his own, he dropped the knife and rubbed his fingers against Snape's hands, their skin slick with blood. 

A soft caress of lips and a teasing stroke of tongue later, Snape broke their kiss. He licked his lips, and Harry mimicked him, though more reluctantly. He wasn't sure if Snape would get angry for this. 

"Who'd have thought handling a blood-soaked spleen destroys what little control you have, Potter," Snape said, his voice teasing. 

Harry smiled. "I'm sixteen, sir. Handling anything while you're pressing your cock against me turns me on."

"I see." Snape pressed a little closer, and Harry felt something hard dig into his lower back. "But I thought we'd discussed this already."

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "A time for work and a time for play. I don't suppose you can make another exception?"

"Not when you're brewing a potion as delicate as Veritaserum. Play can wait until later. I suggest you keep your attention on your work, unless you want to slice your fingers off. That knife is spelled to stay razor sharp."

"All right." Harry brushed his nose and lips across Snape's throat one last time, to inhale his scent, and then turned his attention back to the table. Snape released him, but stood by his side, and Harry continued slicing the spleen, heeding Snape's advice. The cold guilt he'd felt earlier was gone, replaced by the heated promise of play later. It was hard for Harry to remember his plan when he felt Snape's body beside him and he tasted Snape on his lips.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry waited until Snape was done with his supper and placed his knife and fork down. Then Harry cast a spell to start the dishes. Snape had cooked, again, and he'd made stew, again. Other than that, Harry's day had gone by well. They'd brewed his potion in the morning, then they'd relocated to the library to practice more defensive charms and minor curses, and they'd ended their afternoon with a successful Occlumency lesson.

And now it was time for another defense lesson, and Harry remembered quite well what had happened at the end of that lesson the night before. Snape had mentioned play time that morning, and Harry hoped he'd keep his word on that. 

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Well, you've been cooking since you arrived here, and it doesn't seem fair that you should do all the work, so I can cook supper tomorrow. I really don't mind doing it."

Snape leaned back in his chair and observed Harry with a calculated gaze. "Or you could just tell me you don't like my stew."

"I do like your stew!" Harry said quickly. Too quickly, judging by Snape's curved eyebrow. "Honestly, it's a nice stew. It's just that eating it every day seems a bit monotonous."

"So that's the problem," Snape said, sounding satisfied. "A simple, wholesome meal isn't good enough for Harry Potter. You expect a five course dinner. You're in for a disappointment then, Potter. I have no desire to pamper you with special food like your Muggle relatives do. Here you eat what's being served." 

Harry stared at Snape, and then let out a snort of strangled laughter. "God, you have no idea," he said, shaking his head. "Never mind," he added, softer. "Your stew is good enough for me."

That reply didn't seem to please Snape, and he leaned forward, fixing Harry to his chair with his dark eyes. "You're an abysmal Potions student, Potter. What reason do I have to assume you can cook, and that you won't burn down this kitchen and the house with it?"

Harry looked away, staring down at the table top while he tried to reign in the hot flare of anger that coursed through his body. "I have been cooking three meals a day since I was eight. My aunt forced me, and I can tell you it was very much a process of trial and error, and in some cases it came close to death or glory, so you can rest assured I won't burn down this bloody kitchen."

"Well," Snape said, crossing his arms. "If that is where your talents lie, then by all means, tomorrow this kitchen is yours."

"Fine," Harry snapped, crossing his arms as well. 

"Fine what?"

"Fine, _sir_." Harry suddenly found it hard to remember what he liked about Snape. 

"Do try to be mature about this," Snape said, as though all the blame lay with Harry. "There are rules in this house. One of them is that you'll address me as 'sir'."

Harry lost it. He jumped up from his seat. "Five points from Slytherin, _sir_ , for being such a fucking blind, ignorant bastard!" He ran out of the kitchen before Snape could respond and slammed the door shut with a bang.

He decided he might as well go down to the cellar; it was about time to add the powdered mimosa roots to his potion. Inside the workroom, Harry inspected the potion which simmered over the fire, checked the instructions again, and added the roots. He stirred the potion carefully, and watched it turn from a dark-red to a light-yellow. 

"Slower, Potter, or you'll ruin it."

Harry didn't look up, but did what Snape told him. "You can start yelling at me now, sir. Or why not give me a detention? Let me clean these tables and the floor without magic. You always seem keen on that."

"That won't be necessary," Snape said, crossing the room until he stood beside Harry. "I'm rather amused, actually. You're the first student who's ever dared try to take points from me. I found it most refreshing."

"Yeah, well, you deserved it," Harry muttered, lifting the ladle from the potion. 

"You think? I'm not the one who once again let his tongue be ruled by his emotions."

Harry clenched his jaws and said nothing. 

"Until now, I could always rely on insulting your friends. I suppose I can add mentioning your relatives to that list of things that will make you lose your control." 

Finally, Harry glanced up at Snape with a frown. 

"And I will continue to insult your friends and mention your relatives until you learn to keep your control," Snape said, his voice soft and strangely reasonable. 

"Wait, what, you were testing me?" Harry asked, confused. 

"You can call it testing. I call it just another lesson you need to learn."

Harry blinked. Snape had been goading him on purpose. That bastard. But knowing why Snape had done it made Harry feel better.

"You are a spoiled, nasty little boy," Snape whispered in Harry's ear. "You are a pathetic excuse for a wizard. You are a _freak_."

Harry dropped the ladle he'd been holding, fury boiling in his chest. 

"Take it, Potter. Don't lose your control," Snape said, and slid his arm around Harry's waist. "You are a proper harlot, the way you were begging me to touch your cock last night."

"Fuck," Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck, this is hard."

"Breathe. Focus on your breathing. Focus on your body. Don't let it get tense." Snape pulled Harry against his chest, and brushed his lips over Harry's cheek down to his throat. "You don't deserve the attention of your friends. You don't deserve having people fawning over you."

Harry leaned his forehead against Snape's shoulder and inhaled deep, shaky breaths. Snape rubbed his hands over Harry's back, placing soft kisses just below Harry's ear. 

"Do you really believe I'll ever let you in my Potions class next year, Potter? A stupid boy like you, who can't even brew a sleeping draught without his professor holding his hand? No, I'm going to use you to brew me potions all summer, and then I'll happily dispose of you like yesterday's newspaper."

Gasping, Harry snapped his gaze up. Snape sounded dead serious when he'd said that.

"Breathe, Potter," Snape said with a faint smirk. "You're easier to rile than a nesting dragon."

"But how am I supposed to stay calm when you insult me like that?" Harry worried his lip, feeling the anger flow away now that Snape was quiet and looked at him with a passive gaze. "I bet you can't stay calm when I insult you."

"A challenge, Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning. He felt better already. "I bet you can't stay calm when I do that to you."

Snape sneered. "Give it your best shot. Don't hold back."

"All right. But you can't take points for anything I'm about to say."

"You have my word."

Harry's grin grew wider, and he slid one arm around Snape's neck, getting comfortable against Snape's body. "You are ugly. Seriously ugly. You have a huge nose and your hair is greasy."

Snape looked bored. "Come, Potter, you can do better than that."

Snickering, Harry thought about what else he could use. "And you're a horrible teacher. You're by far the worst teacher I've ever had. You're even worse than Lockhart, and he was a complete moron."

Snape tilted his head, still looking bored. His breathing hadn't sped up one bit. Harry raised his hand and pressed his fingers to the pulse point on Snape's throat. Snape's heartbeat was slow and regular. 

"You're a Death Eater. I bet you'd love to hand me over to Voldemort." Harry felt a tiny increase of Snape's pulse at the mention of Voldemort, and he remembered Snape didn't like hearing that name. So, naturally, Harry decided to use it again. 

"I bet you enjoyed torturing and killing people for Voldemort. I bet you enjoyed letting Voldemort fuck you. Is that why you joined him?"

Snape's pulse suddenly went through the roof, and Harry snapped his mouth shut. Then Snape inhaled one deep breath, and his heartbeat returned to normal. Harry bit his lip and wondered if he'd gone too far. 

"Is that all, Potter?" Snape asked. 

"Yeah, think so."

"If you hadn't felt my pulse, would you have known any of my private reactions to your insults?"

Harry thought about that. Snape's face had remained impassive, even at the mention of Voldemort. "No, I don't think so. How did you stay so calm?"

"Because, Potter, hearing the truth hardly upsets me."

Harry felt as if someone had just slushed a bucket of ice water down the back of his shirt. He averted his eyes, lowering his face, but Snape placed a finger under his chin and tipped his head up. 

"It's when people lie to me or little boys decide to ignore the rules that I get angry," Snape said, and brushed his lips across Harry's. That touch was familiar and soothing, and Harry decided not to think about the truth behind some of the things he'd said. He'd known for a long time Snape had been a Death Eater. To think the man had never done any horrible things in his life was ignorant. Harry just didn't want to know about it. 

Snape slid his tongue between Harry's lips, and Harry allowed him to deepen their kiss. He closed his eyes and sagged against Snape as Snape swept his tongue through Harry's mouth. Then Snape pulled back and glanced down at Harry with a small curve of his lips; it came close to a smile. 

"We have one more lesson this evening," Snape said in his teacher voice.

"Yeah. Will there be play time after that?" Harry asked, feeling bold because Snape had just kissed him. 

"Oh yes. In fact, I think perhaps we should add a new rule to your defense lesson."

"What rule?"

"Or more of a reward. For the winner. Perhaps that will motivate you to try harder."

Harry snorted. "What's the reward?"

"Perhaps the loser can perform fellatio on the winner," Snape said, his eyes narrowing in amusement. 

Harry's mind stayed blank while he tried to think what that word meant. "What?"

"Fellatio, Potter," Snape said, shaking his head. "Oral pleasure. A blow job."

"Oh." Harry's eyes widened. "You mean, when I win, you'll give me a blow job?" 

"If you win, then yes, I'll do just that. Of course, when I win, I expect you to do the same for me."

"I can do that. I think." Harry grinned, excitement tickling his insides. His cock quite liked Snape's suggestion as well. It gave an enthusiastic twitch in Harry's trousers. "All right."

"Good. You have one minute." Snape released Harry, stepping away from him. Harry almost wanted to turn his back to Snape, but then he remembered last night. So he skipped out of the room sideways, keeping an eye on Snape, who seemed amused by Harry's odd pace.

Inside the hallway, Harry realized he had to be unpredictable again. Going upstairs was predictable by now, so Harry slipped inside the library. He extinguished the lights, cast a Night Eyes Charm on himself, and then cast an Intruder Charm on the door. Snape had taught him that charm earlier, and it would warn Harry for any intruders coming through the doorway. 

Then he waited, keeping the Paralysis Curse ready on the tip of his tongue. He didn't want to make the same mistake as last night. He wanted to win this round. The idea of Snape sucking his cock, just like he'd done in that memory Harry'd seen, was perhaps one of the most arousing things Harry'd ever heard. 

The Intruder Charm gave a sharp, beeping noise as the door opened. "Torustitum!" Harry yelled, aiming his wand at the figure sneaking inside the room. But Harry's curse never hit Snape. 

Snape cast some sort of Shield Charm, though it was much brighter than any Shield Charm Harry'd ever seen, like sunlight reflecting in a mirror. The red flash of light from Harry's curse bounced off it, and flew towards Harry with twice as much speed. The curse hit Harry in his chest. 

"Bugger!" he yelled as he slumped to the floor. "What was that?"

"That, Mr Potter, was a Mirror Shield Charm," Snape said, advancing on Harry. "I gather you're not familiar with it."

"No. Just the normal Shield Charm."

 

"This one is far more powerful. It reflects any spell back towards the caster. It's also far more difficult to learn than the normal Shield Charm." Snape crouched beside Harry. "Good work on the Intruder Charm."

Harry smiled at Snape's compliment, even though he'd lost yet another round and that was nothing to smile about. "Will you teach me the Mirror Shield Charm?"

"In due time, yes. It takes a lot of power. I want you to practice other charms first.

"You just don't want me to win," Harry said, keeping his tone teasing.

Snape smirked. "I just want to collect on my reward. You do remember our new rule, don't you?"

"Oh yeah," Harry said. He remembered that rule quite well. He had lost. He now had to give Snape a blow job. He had to suck Snape's cock. The room became just a couple of degrees warmer, Harry thought, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead.

"Good." Snape got up, sat down in one of the leather chairs, his knees falling open, and aimed his wand at Harry. "Finite Incantatem."

The room went dark and Harry regained control over his body. He felt around him as he sat up. "Sir? Can you turn on the lights?"

"No," came Snape's voice from his left. "You'll have to use your other senses. Think of it as another lesson."

Harry crawled towards Snape's voice, inch by inch, until he felt the toe of Snape's boot against his fingers. "You want me to...er...now?"

"Yes, Potter. Right now."

Sitting up, Harry felt up Snape's legs until he found Snape's knees, and heaved a sigh. Then he wormed himself between Snape's legs, brushing his hands up Snape's thighs. He was surrounded by Snape now. Surrounded by his body heat, his scent, his legs. So much to feel in the darkness around him. 

Harry slid his hands further up, and felt hard, hot flesh. He drew back, startled. It seemed Snape had prepared for Harry's task. The sound of Snape's chuckles drifted around Harry.

Right. He could do this. He'd seen it in his magazines. It hadn't seemed too difficult. Just wrap your mouth around it and start sucking. Harry licked his lips, moved his fingers until they found Snape's hard cock again, and lowered his head. Snape's cock twitched against his fingers, and Harry inhaled the heavy scent of musk, arousal. He pulled the foreskin back and brushed his lips across the glans. Smooth. Moist. And when Harry darted his tongue out, he tasted a tiny, bitter drop of precome. 

"Watch your teeth," Snape said, his voice composed as ever. Harry felt Snape's hand brush through his hair and rest on top of his head. "Take it in as far as you can."

Parting his lips, Harry sucked the head of Snape's cock inside his mouth. It felt hot against his tongue. Harry stroked the base of Snape's cock with his fingers, and sucked in more of Snape's length. 

"That's it," Snape said. Harry thought he sounded just a tad breathless. "More." Snape's hand pushed down lightly on Harry's head. 

Harry pushed Snape's trousers open further until he found Snape's sac. He squeezed it in time with his strokes around Snape's cock, and drew more of the hard flesh into his mouth. Then he started sucking, guiding his tongue up and down over Snape's cock, his head bobbing up and down. Snape's fingers tightened in his hair while Snape released a throaty sigh. 

Harry liked what he was doing. It felt incredibly intimate to suck Snape's cock, to feel that throbbing flesh against his tongue. The darkness around him helped with that feeling, he knew. There was nothing but the smell of Snape's arousal and Snape's cock sliding in and out his mouth. 

Snape released another sigh, more guttural this time, and Harry smiled around Snape's cock. He sucked harder, stroked harder, teased Snape's sac against his palm, and let Snape guide his head up and down, let Snape keep control over him, let Snape use him, use his mouth. 

Harry's cock was rock hard and rubbed against his trousers. It drew a moan from him, and he shifted on his knees, trying to find a better position. 

"Don't you dare touch yourself," Snape said. He definitely sounded breathless now. "I'll take care of you later."

That promise renewed Harry's enthusiasm, and he sucked until his cheeks hollowed and the head of Snape's cock bumped against the back of his throat. Snape felt so big in his mouth, so powerful, and Harry had to admit he loved that feeling. 

"Yes, almost," Snape breathed, his voice soft and unfamiliar. "Almost."

Snape's cock pulsed, and Harry sucked it in even deeper, and then his mouth was flooded with Snape's bitter release. For a second, Harry wasn't sure what to do, but he decided to keep sucking and swallowing, since Snape hadn't told him to do something else. The taste of Snape's semen was heady and stained Harry's tongue, but he didn't mind. He liked that he'd sucked Snape off, that he'd made Snape come like that. 

"Potter," Snape said, when he'd spurted the last of his come down Harry's throat. "Enough."

Harry released Snape's cock with a soft pop, licked his lips, and sat back, wondering if it had been good for Snape. 

"Come here," Snape tugged on Harry's shirt, urged him up, and Harry climbed up until he sat in Snape's lap, straddling him. 

"Was it good?" he asked hesitantly. 

"That was your first time, am I right?" Snape asked, voice again composed. 

"Yeah."

"Your skill needs improvement, but your enthusiasm certainly was inspiring." Snape cupped the back of Harry's neck and drew him closer for a kiss. 

"You liked it?" Harry kissed Snape, smiling against his lips. 

"Yes, Potter, I liked it." There was amusement in Snape's voice, and Harry rubbed himself against Snape's chest, kissing him again. 

"I liked it, too," he whispered, as if sharing a secret. "I liked it a lot."

"Good. I suspect you'll be doing a lot of this, in the coming days."

"I'll win," Harry said, affronted. "Soon. And then you can suck my cock."

"We'll see." Snape gave him another kiss, teasing his tongue against Harry's lips. "I think you had a problem that needs attending." Snape's hand slid down Harry's chest, and tugged the front of his trousers open. Then thin, strong fingers found Harry's erection and released it from his trousers. 

"God, yeah," Harry sighed, and forced his tongue inside Snape's mouth while he curled his hands around Snape's shoulders. His hips bucked against Snape's hand, urging him to stroke faster. 

Their kiss grew more frantic, Snape's teeth scraping across Harry's lips, and Harry was so aroused from having felt Snape come in his mouth, it didn't take more than five strokes to find his release. He groaned, sucking Snape's tongue inside his mouth as a poor substitute for Snape's cock, and came in long spurts, Snape's skilled hand drawing his orgasm out. 

"Fuck," he gasped, pulling back from Snape's mouth. "Fuck, so good." He slumped against Snape, pressing his lips to Snape's cheek. Soft, warm skin, with just a hint of stubble. Snape's lips caressed Harry's throat, and his fingers released Harry's spent prick. 

"You're so good with your hands," Harry said, wrapping his arms around Snape's neck. "I love how you touch me like that."

And there it was. The feeling of Snape's lips curving up against his throat. Only a touch, but Harry knew what it was. 

"You smiled," he said, sounding triumphant. 

"I did no such thing." Snape seemed indignant, and it made Harry laugh. Snape ignored him. "It's time to see to your potion. It still needs a few hours of work this evening. Turn on the lights."

"Er...I don't have my wand."

Snape made a disapproving sound. "You foolish boy. Never, ever leave your wand out of reach."

"I was a bit distracted," Harry said, though he knew Snape was right. 

"That is not an excuse. From now on, you have your wand with you at all times. Yes, Potter, even when you suck my cock."

Harry snickered. "I love it when you say cock."

"Oh, get off me, you insolent child," Snape snarled, but Harry could tell he wasn't really angry. It was strange how he knew Snape so well by now, he could tell such differences. He pressed one last kiss to Snape's lips, hard, and slid off his lap, still snickering.

He stopped snickering, though, when Snape made him search for his wand on his hands and knees in the dark.

*~*~*~*~*

Later, they lay on Snape's bed naked, limbs tangled, bodies pressed together, hard cocks eager for release.

Harry was close, so close, and he bucked his hips harder, his mouth latched on to Snape's, trying to devour him through their kiss. Snape's hand roamed across Harry's back, dipping lower and lower, until he stroked Harry's arse. 

And then one of Snape's fingers slid between Harry's arse cheeks and pressed against his entrance, and that was such an exciting, forbidden feeling, Harry climaxed with a muffled cry. Snape kept fondling his hole, kept teasing it, and Harry thought he might go mad as he rode out his orgasm with sharp jerks of his body. 

"God," he gasped against Snape's mouth. Snape's hand withdrew, and Harry felt Snape move faster against him, his hard cock sliding against Harry's come-covered belly. He held onto Snape, held him as close as he could. He wanted to feel the moment Snape found his release, wanted to know how it felt for Snape. He wanted to know if Snape liked it as much as he did. 

Snape's eyes fluttered shut, his brow knitted together, and Harry felt hot seed on his skin. Snape held Harry tighter, trembled against him, and then it was over. 

Panting, Harry watched Snape open his eyes. Harry smiled at him, and one corner of Snape's mouth curled up in response. 

It had been a good evening. A perfect evening. After Harry's oral adventure in the library, they'd spent two hours in the workroom, and then Snape had told Harry to come with him. They'd found their way to Snape's bedroom quickly, and this time Harry'd felt no hesitance when Snape had told him to undress and join him on the bed. 

"That was nice," Harry said, and when Snape released his hold, Harry stretched, feeling satisfied and spent. 

"Hmm." It sounded like agreement, which made Harry smile wider. 

Since Harry wasn't nearly as tired as he'd been the night before, he felt no need to go to sleep. So he watched Snape, watched those dark eyes watch him.

"I must admit I had never taken you for a fairy, Potter," Snape said, a curious edge to his voice.

"A what?" Harry drew back a little, and propped himself up on his elbow. Their legs remained tangled, which Harry didn't mind one bit. 

"A homosexual." 

Harry blinked. "But I'm not a homosexual."

Snape snorted with laughter, his face half-buried in his pillow. "Of course not, Potter. That's why you sucked my cock not three hours ago. That's why you're naked in bed with a man. Because you're not a homosexual."

Harry's cheeks flushed. "I haven't really given it any thought. I like doing these things, but I've never considered being a homosexual."

Sighing, Snape sat up, and shook his head. "I normally don't care for consulting students about their personal problems. However, since we're here, let me see what I can do." Snape propped two pillows up against the headboard, sat down against one of them, patted the space beside him in an invitation, and cleared his throat. "Tell me, Mr Potter, how long have you been harboring sexual fantasies involving men?"

Harry knew Snape was teasing, even though Snape had used his best classroom voice. And normally, Harry might have laughed. But this wasn't a normal situation. Because Harry honestly hadn't considered the subject at all. 

"I haven't really harbored anything," he said, his voice unusually soft. He sat up against the pillow, but he didn't dare meet Snape's gaze. 

"Besides those literary works of homosexual art you keep in your room for your own enjoyment?"

Harry snorted. "I was just curious. It didn't mean anything."

"Potter," Snape's voice was quiet, kind almost. "Look at me."

Glancing up, Harry met Snape's narrowed gaze. 

"First, if you ever tell anyone I've given you honest advice, I will cast every single curse from _Death By Wand_ on you, understood?" 

Harry nodded, not sure what Snape was getting at. 

"Good. Now, the advice. It's perfectly all right to be confused about your sexual preferences. However, it benefits no one, least of all yourself, to deny your feelings. Again, tell me, Potter, when did you first consider having sex with a man?"

"I'm not sure. Sometime last year, I think. I got more into it this summer. With those magazines. And with you."

"I see. How do you feel about girls?"

"I find them annoying, mostly," Harry said in all honesty. "And the strange thing is I haven't really given sex much thought until I started thinking about men. I mean, last year, there was this girl, but all I did was kiss her. I didn't even want to do more with her. She was very annoying. And now," Harry gestured between Snape and himself, "I can't seem to stop thinking about it."

Snape snorted. "I don't think that is such a strange thing. You were discovering your preferences. And I do believe you've found them."

Harry heaved a sigh. "So I'm a homosexual? That's just great."

"It's not all that bad, Potter."

"Actually, it is." Harry rubbed a finger across the scar on his forehead. "I'm already different. I can't really use yet another reason people may want to stare after me and gossip behind my back."

"Drop the self-pity. It doesn't become you." Snape sounded more like himself again. "However, you are correct about people's reactions. They can be quite unfavorable towards our kind. Have you told anyone of this development?"

"Besides you?" Harry managed a small smile. "No."

"Keep it that way."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning. "I think perhaps I should tell my friends."

Snape glanced down, obviously searching for the right words. "People generally don't like homosexuals. Even people you care about may desert you once you make your preferences clear."

"Ron and Hermione would never do that!"

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure of that? Can you honestly say Weasley will welcome the fact that you like to suck cock?"

"Okay, perhaps not Ron. But Hermione wouldn't mind."

"Miss Granger has a reasonably functioning brain, so I will give her the benefit of the doubt. But do you believe Weasley will be just as reasonable? Do you believe Molly Weasley would welcome you in her arms if she knew? Do you think your godfather would have cried with joy if he'd known you prefer men?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, a cold shiver running down his back. "Don't start with that, please."

Snape leaned closer, his voice becoming more urgent. "I'm not starting anything. I'm merely trying to explain to you how this world works, so you know what to expect when this summer ends and you bounce back inside Hogwarts as Harry the happy fag. There are plenty of people like your godfather who don't have a very high opinion of homosexuals."

"Don't bring Sirius into this!" Harry snarled. "I know you hate him. You don't have to remind me."

"My feelings for your godfather have nothing to do with this, Potter! Be reasonable for once, and listen to what I'm saying."

"I am listening, and all you do is insult Sirius!"

Snape leaned back, his eyes glittering with malice, as if he were about to publicly criticize Harry's mucked up potion. "You saw my memory. You saw me as a teenager. Who do you think that cock belonged to? How do you think I know Black's feelings on this subject?"

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock, and he went with his instinct, which was never to believe anything Snape told him. "You're lying."

Snape sneered. "Perhaps I should just deposit that memory in a pensieve, so you can have a convenient look at it. You do have experience with prying in my private thoughts."

"Stop it!" Harry yelled, scrambling away from Snape. He didn't understand why Snape was saying those things about Sirius. 

"No, Potter. I do think it's time you learned another part of the truth about your dear godfather."

"Shut up!" Harry was up on his feet and his legs trembled as he shuffled towards the door. 

"Your godfather was a malicious, bigoted, arrogant, rash, irresponsible, homophobic bastard!"

"I don't care!" Harry yelled, turning towards the bed. Snape looked like he wanted to curse someone, possibly Harry. "I don't care if he was all those things. He was all I had!"

Tears of anger prickled the back of Harry's eyes, and he was damned if he let Snape see them. So he turned on his feet and marched out of the bedroom. 

"Torustitum!" Snape shouted, followed by, "Mobilicorpus!" And before Harry knew what was happening, he was back on the bed, lying beside Snape. 

"Let go of me!" Harry tried to trash against the sheets, but his body refused to move. "Let go of me now!"

Snape's fingers tightened around Harry's chin, and forced Harry to look at Snape. "You will calm down at once, or I will force a Calming Potion down your throat, is that understood?"

Harry swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see Snape. 

"That's better," Snape said, and released Harry's chin. Harry turned his face away. "Potter, I know how you felt about your godfather, and not even I am heartless enough to continually rub his faults in your face at this time. However, I am trying to make you understand that even people you consider to be good can have particularly nasty opinions on your sexual preferences."

Inhaling a deep breath, Harry opened his eyes again, but he still didn't look at Snape. "What happened? What did Sirius do to you?"

"Finite Incantatem," Snape said, tapping his wand against Harry's chest. "Don't you dare leave this bed, not until I'm finished."

Harry didn't reply, but he didn't move either, which apparently Snape took as consent. 

"I knew I preferred men when I was fifteen. I discussed it with a few Slytherins, who I knew were amendable to the subject. Black's younger brother, Regulus, overheard us, and reported his findings to his big brother."

Snape stretched out on his back beside Harry, and Harry finally turned his head to look at him. Snape didn't meet his eyes, but stared up at the ceiling. 

"Black then used his obvious charm to convince me he shared my preferences. And I was foolish enough to believe him. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe one of those perfect Gryffindors had a secret as dark as my own.

"When Black knew he'd convinced me, he told me he'd only continue to meet me if I sucked his cock. I did. For a whole week, every night, I sucked his cock. He never touched me."

"That's what I saw," Harry said softly. 

"Yes, Potter, you stumbled on a memory of one of those trysts. After that week, Black stopped seeing me and spread the rumor I was queer. He told everyone I was a filthy shirt-lifter. He made my life at Hogwarts even worse than it already was.

"Of course, I wanted revenge, and thus I spread the rumor Black was queer as well and loved having his cock sucked by Slytherins."

Despite himself, Harry snickered. Snape shot him an amused glance. "I bet Sirius didn't like that," Harry said, smiling. 

"Indeed. Black was not amused."

"What did he do?"

"He sent me to the Shrieking Shack. Told me to meet him there to settle things between us. I believe you know the rest of that story."

"Yeah," Harry said. Snape lips thinned as he stared at nothing in particular. "I'm sorry Sirius did -- "

"Stop it, Potter. I didn't tell you this story to receive your pity. I'm trying to make you see that while preferring men in itself isn't a weakness, it can become a weakness if you let other people use it against you."

"I think I get it," Harry said, and he scooted a little closer to Snape. "The Dursleys were always going on about homosexuals being perverted child rapists."

"Who'd have thought those Muggles know so much about me?" Snape said coolly. 

Harry gaped at him. Then he understood what Snape was saying. "I'm not a child. And you're not a rapist. I haven't made up my mind yet about the perverted part, though."

Snape turned his face and looked at Harry with one curved eyebrow. "So you may not be a child, but you are young. And you are my student. And many people will argue you're not old enough to give consent, which makes me a rapist. And I can definitely be perverted, Potter. We still have a week together. Just you wait."

Harry snorted with laughter, and then he ran his fingers up Snape's arm in a reconciling gesture. "If you know all that, why are you doing these things with me?"

"Why are you doing them with me?"

"Because I like doing them with you. It feels good," Harry whispered. 

"Well, there you have your answer." Snape released a deep breath. "You may leave now, if you wish. I've finished."

Harry tilted his head up to look at the door. Then he looked at Snape. "Can I stay here?"

"I'm sure you can. Do try not to snore as loudly as last night."

"I don't snore," Harry said, grinning. He reached for the sheets, pulled them out from under them, and tucked Snape in. Then he crawled under them, and lay down against Snape, his cheek resting on Snape's chest.

"You're forgetting something, Potter."

"I am?"

"Yes, unless you want to wake up itching like mad."

Rolling his eyes, Harry reached for his wand, and performed a cleaning spell on both of them. 

"Much better. Get some sleep, Potter."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, settling against Snape again, just as Snape turned off the lights. The room went dark, and Harry concentrated on Snape's heartbeat, slow and steady. Snape shifted, wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, and pulled him closer. And Harry felt calm and relaxed and a little bit wiser as he let Snape's heartbeat lull him to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*

The Veritaserum simmered peacefully on the fire, and didn't need any attention for another 24 hours, so Harry started on the lacewing flies for his Polyjuice Potion, which needed to stew for 21 days. He reached for a cauldron, placed it on the fire, and went about preparing the lacewing flies.

"Who did steal the boomslang skin and gillyweed from my office, Potter?"

Harry looked up at Snape, who stood at the other table, working on a potion of his own, and grinned. "I have no idea, sir," he said in his most angelic voice. 

"You used gillyweed at that tournament, and now you tell me you don't know who took it? I know it was you. What I don't know is how you entered my office."

"Okay," Harry said, taking pity on Snape's frustrated look. "I didn't take your gillyweed, but I did use it."

"Then who took it?"

"Dobby."

"Dobby? That house elf?"

"Yeah. But Moody – well, that fake Moody – was behind it. He needed me alive and winning for the third task." Harry tried not to remember what had happened after the third task, and he quickly added the lacewing flies to his cauldron. 

"Ah, yes," Snape said, as if he'd just read Harry's thoughts. "The third task. Where you managed to bring back the Dark Lord all by yourself. Really, Potter, that was a true highlight of your incompetence."

Harry stared at Snape, a cold wave of disbelief washing over him. They'd had such a good start of the day. They'd woken up together, exchanged a few rounds of playful banter, and then they'd had a repeat performance in the shower, much like the day before. And now Snape was insulting him. Again. 

Something clicked inside Harry's mind, and he wanted to bang his head against the wall. Of course Snape was insulting him. It was all part of this lesson Harry had to learn, or so Snape thought. 

Two could play that game, as Harry had learned the previous day.

"Yeah, well, at least I didn't drop to my knees, kissed the hem of his robes, and let him fuck me, as some of us in this room have done," he said, as casually as he could, but he still flinched at hearing his own words. 

Snape, though, looked impressed. And then a sneer stole over his mouth. "No, you got a fellow student killed. Now that takes skill, Potter. Tell me, was Diggory easier to get killed than your godfather?"

_Fuck_. That stung. Harry bit his lip, and tried to wrestle back the blazing anger rising in his chest.

"Breathe, Potter."

Harry tried to, but it was hard not to let those words hurt him.

"Sirius was much easier to get killed than Cedric," Harry finally managed to say, even though his own words cut through his heart like a knife. "Mostly thanks to your cowardice and incompetence. Come on, Snape, even I had enough balls to stand up to Umbridge, but you were such a coward you didn't even try to take her out when she yelled at you she needed Veritaserum. And then you couldn't find me. One little student, and you spent an entire afternoon wandering through that bloody forest. Where were your tracking charms then, eh?"

Snape pursed his lips, and for a moment Harry thought he might have actually pissed Snape off, but then Snape's mouth curled up. 

"That may very well be, Potter, but I'm still alive. And your godfather is sucking Death Eater cock in hell."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "No, actually my godfather got his cock sucked by a Death Eater while he was still in school. He almost got that fag killed, too. And got away with it. Tell me, Snape, do you still piss yourself whenever Lupin looks at you oddly?"

Snape lowered his knife, and placed his hands on the table, leaning towards Harry. "Here is something you may not already know. Draco Malfoy is so much more talented at sucking cock than you are, Potter. You really didn't think this pathetic thing between us is going to continue for very long, did you? The moment we get back to Hogwarts, I'll be calling Draco to my office every evening, to let him suck me off. And I may even tell him what a lousy fuck you are, so he can announce it to the entire school."

Harry was speechless. He was at a complete loss for words, because the pain that ripped through him somehow turned off his higher brain functions. 

"Breathe, Potter." Snape sounded victorious. 

"No," Harry said, digging his fingernails into the wood of his table. "Fuck. No. I can't do this."

"You were doing it, and rather well, if I say so myself."

But Harry couldn't get past the ice cold rejection he felt. He couldn't summon any new insult to swing at Snape. All he could think of was Draco Malfoy on his knees, sucking Snape's cock. And that image drove him mad with...something bitter and unforgiving. 

He looked up at Snape, feeling defeated. "Malfoy's queer?"

Snape snorted. "No, Malfoy isn't queer. And even if he were, he'd still be straight, because he's got a Malfoy heir to produce. You are so gullible. It almost takes the fun out of insulting you."

"I don't see why I need to learn this, and you're better at it anyway, so we may as well stop it."

"No, Potter," Snape said, rounding the table. He halted in front of Harry. "You need to learn this, because if you don't, you give others power over you. If you allow people's words to affect you, you give them power. It's as simple as that."

"Power?" Harry wasn't sure what Snape was trying to say. 

"Yes. Power. Imagine you're dueling an adversary, and you need to concentrate on every move you make. In your case, a few choice insults would throw you completely off your guard, and that makes you an easy target."

"Ah," Harry said. He imagined dueling Bellatrix Lestrange. She'd definitely bring Sirius up. And Harry knew he'd go blind with rage if she did. "I think I get it."

"Good. Because I will keep insulting you, hurting you, until you can meet me word for word. Until you can use my Death Eater past against me without flinching. Do you need any sentimental reassurances I won't go telling Malfoy about your sexual skills the first opportunity I get?"

Harry snorted. "No," he said, trying not to sound sullen. "Perhaps a kiss would help restore my faith in your intentions."

Snape cupped Harry's chin, and pecked a kiss on his lips. "There. Now get to work, Potter." Snape swept around, and stalked to his table. 

Smiling, Harry went back to the instructions on Polyjuice Potion. He felt better, now he understood why it was important to learn to take insults without losing his control. Still, Harry couldn't help thinking this was going to be the hardest lesson he had to learn that summer.


	3. Chapter 3

"Get some sleep, Potter," Snape said against Harry's hair. 

"But I'm not tired," Harry said, looking up at Snape. Then a wide yawn took control of his mouth. 

"Petulant child," Snape muttered. He reached for his wand, and cast a quick cleaning spell on them both. "Have you perhaps considered I'm tired?"

Harry's eyes drooped shut. "No. But we'll go to sleep. Though it's not my fault you're too old to keep up with me."

Snape released a loud snort, but didn't comment. He turned off the lights and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist. Harry curled against him, resting his cheek on Snape's warm chest. 

It had been a good day. There had been potions brewing, defensive charms, Occlumency, a defense lesson Snape had won, and sex. Harry liked the latter best. He hadn't minded one bit Snape had won a blow job again. Though this time Snape had wanted his reward upstairs, in bed, and afterward Harry'd rubbed against him until he came. And now they were lying close together, comfortably, and Harry liked that very much, too. 

At some point, Harry's thoughts turned to dreams, and he found himself in their workroom, and Snape was naked and hard, and Harry sucked Snape's cock, and Snape told him he was much better at it than Voldemort --

Searing pain ripping through his head yanked Harry from his dreams, and he sat up with a gasp, clutching his forehead in his hands. The lights came on, and beside him, Snape grimaced with pain, his left arm pressed against his chest. 

"God, that hurts," Harry moaned. The pain lost its heat, and slowly burned down to nothing. Harry's scar throbbed, and he lowered his hands and looked at Snape. 

Dropping his left arm to the sheets, Snape's expression relaxed, and he inhaled a few quivering breaths. He looked back at Harry. "Were you dreaming? What were you dreaming?"

"Er...just something irrelevant."

"Are you sure, Potter? It couldn't have been a foretelling dream?"

Harry chuckled. "I dreamed I was sucking your cock in the workroom. And I think you mentioned Vol – him. That was it."

"I daresay that is a foretelling dream, though not one of any particular use," Snape said, and chuckled as well.

Smiling, Harry looked down Snape's body, and noticed the Dark Mark on Snape's arm. It was as black as Snape's eyes, and stood out against his pale skin. Harry pursed his lips. "Did he just summon you?" he asked. "Do you have to leave now?"

Snape shook his head. "That was a summons, however, I don't answer them."

"Ah." Harry was relieved to hear that, though it also confused him. "I thought you were spying for the Order."

"What I do for the Order is none of your concern, Potter," Snape said, and he sounded distant and cold. 

"I was just worried," Harry said, looking away from Snape. 

Snape sighed. "What I meant to say was, it's safer for both of us if you don't know my exact work." He stroked the tip of his finger over Harry's scar. "You are too close to him."

"You mean, he could...?"

"If he ever found a new way into your mind, then yes, it's safer if you don't know certain things."

"I get it," Harry said. He looked down at the Dark Mark on Snape's arm again. "Can I touch it?"

Snape stared at his arm as though it didn't belong to him. "You want to touch it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and didn't wait for anymore consent. He lay down on his stomach, and ran a finger over the Dark Mark. It felt scorching against his skin, and Snape jerked. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it's merely sensitive at this moment."

Harry traced the shape of the snake with his finger. "Can it ever be removed? Or is it like my scar?"

When Snape didn't answer him, Harry glanced up. Snape was looking at him as though Harry'd just transformed into Voldemort himself. 

"What?"

"Do try to speak English in the future."

"Huh?"

"You were hissing, Potter," Snape said, and pulled his arm out of Harry's reach. 

"Oh." Harry frowned. "Parseltongue. I was looking at the snake. Sorry."

"Yes, well, I don't think it's such a good idea to speak that language to a Dark Mark. Who knows what it may trigger."

"Yeah, you're right. I don't have much control over it, though. Usually, when I see a snake, I start to talk like that. I hardly ever notice I'm doing it."

Snape looked thoughtful. "Then I suggest you start working on gaining control over that ability. We'll include it in our lessons tomorrow."

"Is there anything you don't want me to learn this summer?" Harry asked, snickering. 

Snape looked dead serious. "No, because we are running out of time."

"We are?"

"Yes, and you are running out of luck. You've faced the Dark Lord twice in the last two years, and both times it was luck rather than skill that got you out of there alive. Your luck won't hold, so it's time you master the skills necessary to defeat him."

Harry rolled onto his back, considering Snape's words. "Yeah, I think you're right. It's just...the idea of facing him again is a bit daunting."

"The more skills you learn, the less daunting it will be," Snape said, and stretched out beside Harry. They stayed silent for a while, Harry lost in thoughts of his lessons and his past encounters with Voldemort, and Snape lost in thoughts of his own. 

"Will you tell me about him?" Harry asked. 

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me about him. What's he like? What was he like before? Why did so many people join him?" At Snape's hesitant look, Harry added, "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want me to know. I just want to know more about him, because all I know is that he killed my parents and wants to kill me, really."

"That seems like a reasonable request," Snape said. "Very well."

Harry rolled onto his side, head propped on his hand. 

"When the Dark Lord rose to power before you were born, he told people what they wanted to hear. You have to understand that in the decades prior to that, a group of wizards started pushing for exposure of our world. They said Muggles had stopped seeing magic as the devil's tool. They'd stopped trying to burn witches at the stakes. And according to those people, our world would benefit from collaborating with the Muggle world.

"Quite a few people, mostly purebloods, didn't agree. And the Dark Lord easily used their fears to manipulate them to his side. The Dark Lord started out very much like a politician, and a skilled politician at that, if there ever were such a thing.

"Of course, once you pledged your loyalty to him," Snape glanced at the Dark Mark on his arm, "you were in it for life. Most wizards didn't realize that little clause until it was too late."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Sirius told me Regulus wanted out, and that got him killed."

Snape's expression tightened. "I'm well aware of that, Potter. I killed him."

The mattress seemed to drop out from under Harry, and he felt as if he'd just tumbled to the floor. "Sirius never said that," he whispered. 

"That's because he didn't know. I do believe he'd have skinned me alive if he had known."

Harry bit his lip. "Why did you...er...kill him?"

"I can assure you, it wasn't voluntary on my part. The Dark Lord knew there were traitors among his followers. He suspected me, though I was still loyal to him at that time, and he learned Regulus wanted out. He ordered me to kill him to prove my loyalty. So I did."

Glancing down, Harry wasn't sure any longer what to think of Snape, and it gnawed at his heart. 

"Oh, come now, Potter. Surely you already knew being a Death Eater isn't exactly the equivalent of being a member of a chess club. We were all forced to do things we did not want to do."

"I know," Harry said, worrying the corner of his pillow between his fingers. "Is that when you crossed over to Dumbledore?"

Snape gave an indignant huff. "Crossed over? No, I never fled to Dumbledore to beg him for forgiveness, if that is what you mean. I did, however, start collecting information I could conveniently let slip to Dumbledore's side. I knew the only way I could get out from under the Dark Lord's power was to help their side win."

"Our side," Harry said, giving Snape an insecure smile. 

"At that time, I still considered it to be their side. That didn't change until after you disposed of the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore kept me out of Azkaban and offered me sanctuary at Hogwarts."

"But if he was gone, why did you need sanctuary?"

"Because many of his followers were still on the loose. Do you know what happened to the Longbottoms?"

Harry nodded, remembering his trip to St Mungo's the previous year. 

"That happened after the Dark Lord vanished. His followers were set on bringing him back and taking care of any disloyal Death Eaters. Since my work as a spy was all that could keep me out of Azkaban, Dumbledore had no choice but to publicly announce my true alliance. And thus I had no choice but to seek sanctuary at Hogwarts."

"And you've stayed there all these years," Harry mused. 

"Indeed. Dumbledore didn't believe the Dark Lord was gone for good. I agreed with him. And we've been proved right, unfortunately."

"But you're on our side now," Harry said, sounding hopeful. 

Snape rolled his eyes. "I think the fact that I'm in bed with you, telling you bedtime stories, instead of handing you over to the Dark Lord proves that much."

Harry snickered. "Yeah, I think so." 

"Is there anything more you need to know to satisfy your chronic curiosity?"

"What's he like as a person? Did he already look like a snake when you joined him?"

"No, he still looked mostly human during his rise to power." Snape gave Harry a careful look. "The Dark Lord has a formidable temper, but he isn't a rash man. In fact, the only time I've seen him act rash was when he went after you. And as we all know, that proved to be his downfall. 

"He's an intelligent man. A very powerful wizard. He knows more magic than half the wizarding world combined. And if he favors you, he can be a surprisingly kind man. Of course, if you dare cross him, he will unleash his cruelty on you. He can be a very cruel man."

"You sound like you admire him," Harry said, feeling petulant. 

Snape stayed silent, his dark eyes fixed on Harry. 

"You do," Harry said, surprised. "You do admire him."

"I do," Snape said, nodding. "I admire his skill as a wizard. I admire his power. However, I do not admire his desire to rule others, nor his murderous streaks."

"Is that why you joined him? It's just...you seem smarter than to believe his lies."

"Potter, I was sixteen when I first met him, and seventeen when I took his mark. I was young. I had never met anyone like him. Someone who made me feel as though I deserved the life he could give me. As though I deserved the attention he gave me. I believed him. It was quite that simple."

"I suppose," Harry said, and averted his gaze. "I know what it's like to think you don't deserve the things you have. I've thought that for a long time. Still do, sometimes. The Dursleys always make sure to remind me." He gave Snape a careful look. "You always reminded me."

"I don't think anyone deserves the role this world has pushed you into," Snape said, and placed a hand on Harry's hip.

"You don't hate me, do you?" Harry asked, and he despised how small he sounded. 

"For a very long time, I've thought of you as a nasty, spoiled, impudent child. You gave me no reason to think differently of you." Snape's hand slid up, and rested on Harry's back. "However, those circumstances have changed. I would never share a bed with someone I hate."

"You shared a bed with him," Harry whispered. 

"I've never claimed to hate him, Potter."

"God, you are so difficult to understand," Harry said, exasperated. 

Snape laughed, and pulled Harry closer. "That's exactly what I prefer to be."

"Yeah, well, whatever you're doing, it works." Harry pressed his lips to Snape's throat. "I would never share a bed with someone I hate, either."

"Good. Now get some sleep." Snape extinguished the lights, and Harry settled in his embrace. 

"You know, I really appreciate what you're doing for me," Harry whispered, placing soft kisses on Snape's throat. "I'd never thought I'd ever like you, but --"

"Oh, do be quiet, Potter. Just because I don't hate you doesn't mean I have any desire to listen to confessions of infatuation in the dark."

Harry snorted with laughter. He raised his head, and pressed his lips to Snape's in a gentle kiss. "I like you, too."

Snape released a long-suffering sigh. Then he kissed Harry, slowly, and Harry was sure he felt Snape smile against his lips.

*~*~*~*~*

When Harry entered the kitchen the next morning, Snape handed him the _Daily Prophet._

"It seems he was in a particularly good mood last night," Snape said, and went back to the eggs in the frying pan.

Harry stared at the headline. 

'SEVEN MUGGLEBORNS DIE IN GRUESOME ATTACK – YOU KNOW WHO WAGES OPEN WAR ON WIZARDING WORLD'

"That explains why my scar hurt," Harry said. He put the newspaper down. He didn't feel like reading the article. "Was anyone we know attacked?"

Snape shook his head. "No current Hogwarts students."

"Well, that's something." Harry sat down, releasing a defeated sigh. "I hate being locked up here."

"There's nothing you could have done," Snape said. He turned to look at Harry, leaning against the counter.

"I still feel like I should do something."

"You should practice. You should learn your lessons. And then, one day in the future, you will be able to do something."

"It's really strange when you're being so reasonable," Harry said, and offered Snape a small smile. "I think I prefer you mean and nasty."

"Very well. You're a stupid, talentless Gryffindor with an ego so enormous you believe it's up to you to save this world."

Harry grinned. "And you're a power-hungry, psychopathic Slytherin with a preference for scaly old cocks."

Snape chuckled. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"Eggs?"

"Yes, please. Is there toast?"

"There will be if you get up from your lazy backside and make it."

Harry gave Snape a mock-pout as he got up. "Don't say nasty things about my backside. You like my backside."

"I like most of you. That's never stopped me from insulting you."

"You're making real progress. Getting in touch with your feelings. Voicing them." Harry ducked when Snape threw a slice of bread at him. "Though you still have a few issues with your temper."

"I suggest you make that toast, or I'll show you my temper, Potter."

"Yes, sir." Harry walked to Snape, pressed a kiss to his lips, ignored Snape's glare, and started on the toast. "Child molester," he muttered, glancing at Snape from the corner of his eye. 

Snape dropped his spatula, which sent Harry into a victorious burst of laughter.

*~*~*~*~*

"Careful, Potter," Snape said, as Harry levitated the fire crab shell, and filled a second vial of Veritaserum. Once the vial was full, he lowered the shell, and gave Snape an expectant look.

"Now we test it," Snape said, and for a moment Harry thought Snape would use it on him. But Snape pulled out a sheet of parchment, and poured three drops of Harry's Veritaserum on it. Then he reached for a second vial. Harry had no idea what he was doing, but he noticed Snape's severe look, so he leaned his elbows on the table and watched quietly, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Snape poured three drops of some blue potion on the Veritaserum, and Harry watched how the wet spot on the parchment turned to pink. Snape released a deep breath. 

"What happened?" Harry asked, confused. 

"Your Veritaserum is adequate."

"Yes!" Harry yelled, and jumped up and down. "I've brewed Veritaserum! Ha!" He punched Snape on the arm in sheer excitement. 

"Potter! This is a potions laboratory. Please refrain from those childish antics."

"I've brewed Veritaserum!" Harry yelled again, as if Snape hadn't been there every step of the way. "Does that mean you'll let me in your Potions class? I've brewed Veritaserum." Harry gestured at his private potions supply, which had quite a few potions in it already. "And I've brewed all that."

"Hmm," Snape said, stoppering one of the vials of Veritaserum before slipping it inside his robes. "Let's see."

"Oh, come on! I've spent two weeks in here. I've brewed everything you told me to."

"However, you did manage to ruin your first batch of blood-replenishing potion," Snape said, and made it sound like a grave mistake. 

"That was your fault." 

"I beg your pardon?"

"I was distracted. You kept making suggestive motions with your ladle."

Snape snorted with laughter. "Very well. I'll allow you in my class."

"Yes, thank you!" Harry threw his arms around Snape, who took a step backward to keep his balance. 

"Potter, your exuberance is tiring. Do control yourself."

Harry grinned, and gave Snape a long, deep, grateful kiss. Snape allowed it, and then dislodged Harry's arms from his neck. Harry smiled at him, and he found it hard to believe their two weeks together were about to end. The next day, Remus would return. The time Harry spent with Snape had gone by in a blur of lessons and sex, and Harry had learned a great deal on all subjects. 

He knew more defense charms and minor curses than were available through Hogwarts' curriculum. He'd got very good at Occlumency; he was finally able to keep Snape completely out of his mind. He'd become a decent potions brewer, with an admirable collection of potions. And he'd become an expert at blow jobs, seeing as he'd yet to win one of their defense lessons. 

"I'll write to Professor McGonagall to tell her of my decision," Snape said, and added the second vial of Veritaserum to Harry's potions box. "Have you sent the list of your N.E.W.T. classes to Hogwarts already?"

Harry nodded, and closed his potions box. A very satisfied feeling warmed his chest.

"Good. Then I think it's time I taught you the Mirror Shield Charm. Follow me."

"Only took you two weeks," Harry muttered, but made sure it sounded teasing. 

"And look how many blow jobs I got out of it," Snape said with a satisfied smirk. 

Harry snickered. "I'll just think of that as yet another lesson I had to learn."

"Very wise." Snape walked up the stairs, Harry following him closely.

*~*~*~*~*

"Protego Specularis!" Harry shouted, for the umpteenth time that day. He'd practiced all afternoon, and he'd continued right after supper -- stew, since Snape had cooked.

"You're close. But it needs more of your magic."

"I don't think I can give more," Harry said, sighing. Snape stepped up behind Harry, and placed his hand on Harry's elbow. 

"Don't tense your arm. It needs to come from within you, not from this appendage. Try again."

Harry inhaled a few shaky breaths, and tried to concentrate on his own magic, on that dormant fire within him. "Protego Specularis!"

Sunlight on a mirror, Harry thought, before the world turned black around him. 

"Potter. Wake up."

"Huh?" Harry blinked his eyes open, and wondered how he'd got from the drawing room to his own bedroom. Snape stared down at him, seated on the edge of the bed. 

"You cast a perfect Mirror Shield Charm. Unfortunately, it took too much out of you."

"I fainted?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse. 

"You passed out. It's not uncommon when you've been casting that much powerful magic in one afternoon. We'll continue with your lesson tomorrow."

"Okay," Harry said, not liking how weak his voice sounded. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I've played ten Quidditch matches in a row. And I don't think I've won any of them."

Snape chuckled. "Get undressed. I have something that will help you." Snape got up and swept from the room. Harry stared after him, and then set about taking his clothes off, which was easier said than done. 

He was down to his boxers and socks when Snape returned, holding a bottle with something creamy inside. Snape helped him with his last garments, and then urged him to lie on his stomach. 

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, pillowing his head on his arms. 

"Be quiet." Snape seated himself on the bed again, and opened the bottle. He poured some of the cream on his hands, and rubbed them together. 

"Ah," Harry moaned, when Snape's hand touched his back. "That's cold."

"It'll get hot very quickly." Snape curled his fingers around Harry's shoulders, and started kneading the knots in Harry's muscles. And it did become hot, Harry noticed. It felt like liquid fire leaking down into his body. 

"What is that stuff?" he whispered, relaxing under Snape's hands, which traveled down his back, massaging every inch of skin they encountered. 

"A healing salve designed to help against extreme exhaustion," Snape said in his lecturing voice. 

"God, it feels spectacular," Harry moaned. "You are so good with your hands. Don't stop."

"I don't intend to stop," Snape said, tracing his fingers over Harry's lower back, working Harry's skin and muscles in secure strokes.

"Fuck, this is making me hard." Harry rubbed his growing erection against the sheets, unable to resist the pleasant friction. 

Snape snorted, and guided his hands down Harry's arse. "Potter, is there ever a time you're not hard?"

"Not when you're touching me like this, no," Harry said, and he parted his legs, giving Snape all the access he needed to stroke his arse and dip between his cheeks. 

They hadn't done more than rubbing together, and Snape stroking Harry to climax, while Harry spent a lot of time sucking Snape's cock. Snape had often teased Harry's entrance, never breaching it, but touching it, stroking it. 

And Harry loved that feeling, and he had spent the last couple of days wondering what it would be like to feel Snape's fingers inside him. Or Snape's cock.

"God, yeah," Harry moaned, when Snape's finger drew small circles around his entrance. "That feels so good." He raised his hips, just a bit, and Snape stroked over the tight ring of muscles in response. 

Harry glanced at Snape over his shoulder. "Do you want to have sex with me?"

"I thought that's what we've been doing these last two weeks," Snape said, still torturing Harry's pucker with light taps of his finger. 

"I mean, do you want to have sex with me there? Do you want to fuck me?" Harry felt his cheeks flush.

"Yes, Potter. I want to fuck you." Snape slid his finger past the tense muscles, and pushed it inside Harry to the knuckle. 

"Oh god." Harry jerked his hips at that invasive feeling. "I want you to. I want you to fuck me."

"Really?" Snape moved his finger in and out of Harry, faster and faster. "Do you want me to fuck you like this? Do you want to feel my cock inside you?"

"Yes!" Harry cried, bucking his hips back against Snape's hand, trying to get more of Snape's finger inside him. It felt incredible to have something touching him inside his body. "God, yes."

"Don't move." Snape pulled his finger out, gently, and Harry heard the rustling of clothes. Snape was undressing himself. 

"Do you have any of that lubricant you brewed at hand?" Snape asked. Harry felt Snape's naked thigh against his own. 

"Nightstand," Harry said. His heart was hammering in his chest. He couldn't believe they were finally going to do this. He was finally going to let Snape fuck him. It had to be the most arousing thing he'd ever done, to let Snape put his cock inside Harry like that. 

And then Snape's finger was back, slick and hot, and it found Harry's entrance and pushed inside without hesitation. Harry moaned, and spread his legs wider, eager to feel more, eager to get to the part where Snape would slide his cock inside. 

"Impatient boy," Snape said, his voice heavy. "You're just begging for my cock, aren't you?"

"Yes, please," Harry breathed, and bit his lip when Snape slid a second finger inside. That feeling of being stretched was amazing. Harry was panting, and his own hard cock felt like it might burst against the sheets. Snape sat between Harry's legs, and urged him to raise his hips. Harry did, and Snape drove his fingers inside deeper. His strokes became faster, and he kept moving his hand until Harry was fucking himself on his fingers. 

"Please," Harry whispered. "Please." He knew Snape loved hearing him beg, and oddly, Harry loved begging Snape. "You make me feel so good."

Snape made a throaty sound of appreciation. He pulled his fingers out, and Harry glanced over his shoulder. Snape was kneeling behind him, his thick cock glistening, and he guided it to Harry's entrance. 

"Please," Harry whispered again, more urgently. "God, I want to feel you inside me."

Snape closed his eyes, and pushed his cock against Harry's pucker. 

"Oh, yes," Harry moaned, bucking back as much as he dared. Snape's cock slid inside an inch, and Harry bucked back harder. Snape pushed forward, and he was sheathed inside Harry. 

"That feels good." Harry closed his eyes and raised his hips higher, hoping Snape could push in even further. "That feels so full."

"Do you want it hard, Potter?"

"Fuck, yeah."

"Good." Snape gripped Harry's hips, and drew back, his cock sliding out of Harry, and just when Harry thought Snape's cock slid out of him completely, Snape drove it back inside him. 

"Ah! Ah, fuck!"

Snape chuckled, deep and victorious, and that sound made Harry want Snape to fuck him even harder. Snape thrust into him, deep, and again, and again, and Harry had never felt anything like that. It was better than all the things they'd done before. Snape's cock was thick and hot and filled him, and Harry didn't want Snape to ever stop. 

"Touch yourself."

Harry wormed one hand under his body, and pulled at his own cock. He tried to match Snape's rhythm, but Snape drove into him so hard and so fast, Harry had trouble keeping up. He was close, so close, the feeling of Snape's cock rubbing over his prostate more than enough to make him come.

"Almost there," he whispered, and he felt helpless, and he loved that feeling, loved Snape being in control, taking him, using him. "So close." He tugged harder on his prick, his teeth clenched, and his body shaking from Snape's thrusts. Snape was fucking him, and he was fucking him hard, and Harry came with a muffled cry, his cock spurting long strings of come to the sheets. 

Snape moaned, an unfamiliar sound that made Harry shiver in delight. Snape was fucking him, and Snape liked it enough to moan. Harry drove his hips back, wanted to challenge Snape to fuck him harder, to take everything there was to take. Snape moaned again, and Harry smiled against his arm. 

"Yes," Snape hissed, his fingers digging into Harry's flesh. He thrust his cock inside as deep as he could, and Harry felt it twitch, and he was filled as Snape came, hips jerking against Harry's. 

Snape slumped down on him, and Harry loved feeling Snape's weight on him, Snape's panted breaths on the back of his neck, Snape's spent cock softening inside him. Finally, when they'd both caught their breaths, Snape pulled out and rolled onto his back beside Harry. 

"God, that was so good!" Harry said, as if he were describing his first Quidditch victory. "That was fantastic!"

Staring up at the ceiling, sweat shining on his face, Snape released a sigh. "You know, Potter, there is this thing called afterglow, and you're ruining it with your inane babbling."

Snickering, Harry shifted closer to Snape, and propped his chin up on Snape's chest so he could look at Snape's face. "But this was really good. Really, really good. We have to do this more often."

"As often as we can," Snape said, looking down at Harry over his hooked nose. "Though perhaps I should remind you Lupin is returning tomorrow, which means our privacy will be mostly nonexistent."

Harry's face fell. "I know. But you'll still teach me our lessons, right?"

Snape raised a hand and stroked Harry's damp hair. "Yes, we'll continue with our lessons. There are ways to ensure our privacy. Locking and silencing charms. Plus, you've your own vial of Draught of the Living Dead. I'm sure you can manage to dose Lupin's evening tea."

Harry's lips tugged up in a grin. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

Snape tried to look innocent, but it was ruined by the smirk on his face. "I'm a Slytherin, Potter. You'd best remember that."

"Poor Remus," Harry said, though he didn't mean it. "He'll be hooked on every possible sleeping potion by the time we return to Hogwarts."

Chuckling, Snape curled a hand over Harry's arm, and pulled him up until their lips met. "I have no intention to end this anytime soon." Snape emphasized 'this' with a kiss. "We'll find a way to continue our private time together."

"I hope so," Harry whispered. "I really like this." He pressed his lips to Snape, and let Snape tease his mouth open with tiny flicks of his tongue. Then he invaded Snape's mouth, and drew their kiss out as long as he could. 

"Though you must understand I won't be able to spend more than a few nights here once Lupin returns. It'd be suspicious, seeing that I have plenty of work to do at Hogwarts in preparation of the new semester."

"I understand," Harry said, and pressed small kisses on Snape's cheek. So this was their last night together. Harry placed his cheek on Snape's shoulder, hooked his leg around Snape's hips, and tightened an arm around Snape's chest.

"Get some sleep, Potter," Snape said, as he turned off the lights. 

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered. He closed his eyes, but he was determined to stay awake as long as he could. He wanted to feel Snape against him for as long as his tired mind would let him.

*~*~*~*~*

"Get up, Potter!"

Harry woke up to a blur of motion. Snape was getting dressed in a hurry, his robes swirling around him as he searched for the buttons. 

"Huh?" Harry glanced at the window. There was no light shining through the crack in the curtains. It wasn't even morning, and Snape was moving like a man possessed. 

"Get up! Now!"

"Why?" Harry rubbed a hand over his eyes, still trying to catch up with reality. 

"Dumbledore has just arrived. And I think McGonagall is with him."

"What?" Harry sat up at once, his heartbeat going from calm to panicked in less than a second. "Why is he here?"

"I have no idea. He can't find us in this state, or it will be my neck on the line. So get up and get dressed already." Snape reached for his wand, and cast a cleaning charm on the sheets. Then he pulled the sheets down and aimed his wand at Harry. His magic seemed to scorch Harry's skin, and for a moment Harry thought Snape had cast one of those skin curses he'd read about. 

But it turned out to be nothing more than an enthusiastic cleaning charm. The sheets fell back over Harry, who groped over the edge of his bed for his boxers. 

"Potter, listen to me," Snape said, an urgent edge to his voice. "You are not to discuss any of the potions you've brewed with the Headmaster. And you cannot mention any of the curses you've been practicing. In fact, don't mention any of our lessons. If the Headmaster asks, let me address it."

Harry's mouth dropped open in confusion, but before he could question Snape, a voice rang through the hallway. 

"Severus? Are you up here?"

Snape raked his fingers through his hair, trying to flatten it. Then he stepped up to the bedroom door, and opened it. 

Dumbledore stood in the doorway, McGonagall hovering just behind him. 

"Headmaster," Snape said, and Harry was impressed how calm and composed Snape seemed. "I heard you arrive, and I was just trying to rouse the boy. He sleeps like the dead."

Snape stepped back from the door, and both Dumbledore and McGonagall looked at Harry, who still sat on the bed, boxers in his hand. 

"Sorry," he said. "I'll get dressed."

"Is something wrong, Headmaster?" Snape asked, crossing his arms. "I hadn't expected a visit at this time in the night."

"Ah, yes, Severus. I'm afraid something has happened. Let's discuss it over a cup of tea in the kitchen, shall we? Harry, I'd like you to join us."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, glancing down. "I'm very sorry. I had a busy day, and it always takes me a minute to wake up properly. Professor Snape came to wake me only just before you knocked on the door."

Snape gave him a nasty sneer in response, as though he was repulsed by Harry's sleeping habits. 

"Of course," Dumbledore said pleasantly. He gave Harry a searching look. "Is everything all right, Harry?"

As Harry glanced up at Dumbledore's kind, blue eyes, he had an epiphany. This was the perfect moment to execute the last stage of his plan. One word from him now, and Dumbledore would take action against Snape. Hell, Harry even had Veritaserum on hand, if he needed to convince Dumbledore of what had happened. 

And Harry's revenge would be complete. 

And then Harry looked at Snape, who stared at him as if he were the nastiest person he'd ever met, and Harry realized he didn't want Dumbledore to take any action against Snape. He didn't want to stop doing the things he did with Snape. 

Snape had taught him all those potions and charms. Snape had taken him into his bed. Snape had trusted him enough to talk honestly about his past. 

Snape had made Harry feel competent and appreciated and lo--

"Potter, answer the Headmaster," Snape snapped. 

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine. Shouldn't I be? What's wrong?"

McGonagall managed a thin smile. "Let's leave Mr Potter to wake up and get dressed."

"Meet us in the kitchen, Harry," Dumbledore said, offering Harry a reassuring smile. Snape ignored Harry as he followed the other two out of the room.

As soon as they'd left, Harry rose and got dressed. Then he went downstairs, and he found his professors in the kitchen. He sat down beside McGonagall, and nodded politely when Dumbledore offered him tea. 

"Harry, something has happened to Remus," Dumbledore said, his voice grave. 

Harry, who'd just lifted his cup of tea, lowered his cup so fast tea spilled over the sides. "Is he all right?"

"He's alive, though he's been badly injured. He's in St Mungo's at the moment, receiving expert care."

"What happened to him?" Harry felt blood drain from his face. First Sirius, and now Remus.

"As Remus was making his way back here, he was intercepted. We assume by Death Eaters. They were unable to kill him, or extract information from him, but they have injured him."

Harry glanced at Snape, but Snape's expression was blank. He didn't even meet Harry's gaze.

"Remus will have to spend a few weeks in St Mungo's to recover," Dumbledore continued. He turned in his seat to look at Snape. "Severus, I have a request to make."

Snape rolled his eyes in a grand gesture. 

"Your reports on Harry's progress have been favorable. I'd like to ask you to remain here for the next two weeks, to supervise Harry and continue with his training."

"Headmaster," Snape said, his voice tight. "While I appreciate your faith in my teaching abilities, I do have a life at Hogwarts to get back to. I have classes to prepare and staff meetings to attend. I have no time to babysit this child for another two weeks."

Harry almost wanted to shoot Snape a dirty glare, but then he understood what Snape was doing. He couldn't seem too eager to stay, could he? That would rouse suspicion. They were supposed to hate each other, after all. 

So Harry drooped in his chair and pretended to be miffed about having to spend another two weeks with Snape. 

"Severus, you never contribute anything to our staff meetings, besides demanding more severe detention methods," McGonagall said. Snape sneered at her. "And you can compose your lesson plans here. If you require anything from Hogwarts, I can have it delivered for you."

Snape released an exasperated sigh. "Very well. Your wish is my command."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, smiling. 

"Can I see Remus?" Harry asked. "Can I visit him in St Mungo's sometime soon?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid a visit to St Mungo's wouldn't be safe, Harry. Voldemort knows about your connection to Remus. We can't risk an ambush."

"Headmaster, I have no desire to listen to the boy nagging to see the werewolf for two weeks. Does anyone know Lupin has been admitted to St Mungo's yet?"

Again, Dumbledore shook his head. "No, we just came from St Mungo's. You're the first to hear."

"Well, then. Shall we?" Snape stood up, and straightened his robes. "It's the middle of the night, so there's little chance anyone will see us. I'll stay by the boy's side at all times. Potter, get up."

Rising from his seat, Harry had to fight back the urge to throw his arms around Snape in appreciation.

"Stand still, Potter. I'll cast a minor glamor charm on you to hide your distinctive features." Snape pointed his wand at Harry's face and muttered something, and Harry felt magic tickle his skin. He had no idea what Snape had just changed about him, but he trusted Snape to do a good job. 

"We'll floo together. Grab my arm," Snape said. Harry curled his fingers in Snape's sleeve and held on tight. Glancing over his shoulder, Snape said, "Headmaster, Minerva." And then he threw a handful of Floo-powder in the fireplace. 

"St Mungo's!"

After a nauseating trip, they tumbled out of one of the public fireplaces in St Mungo's main hall. Or rather, Snape stepped out, and Harry almost fell on his arse. Snape caught his arm. The reception area, which had been crowded the last time Harry'd been there, was empty, save for a witch behind the desk. 

As soon as he'd steadied himself, Harry looked up at Snape. "Thank you."

"Do be quiet. I meant what I said. I have no desire to listen to you voicing your worries over that wolf for two weeks." Snape brushed soot off his sleeves. "I do hope you remembered to bring your wand in your rush to get dressed."

Snickering, Harry nodded. "I even brought the lube, though I have no idea why."

Curving an eyebrow, Snape gave Harry a curious look, which made Harry laugh louder. 

"Come on, Potter. Let's not waste any time here." Snape walked towards the desk, and Harry followed him closely. 

"Good evening," Snape said with a curt nod of his head. "We're here to see Remus Lupin."

The witch gave them a suspicious look. "It's long past visiting hours, sir."

"He was just brought in, I'm afraid."

"Are you relatives? Only close relatives can visit upon arrival of a patient."

Snape huffed, as though the witch was stupid for even daring to suggest he wasn't a relative. "I'm his brother." He grabbed the back of Harry's neck, and pulled Harry against his side. "And this is my son. We're very concerned."

The witch still looked suspicious. "Very well. Names?"

"George and Richard Lupin," Snape said, stone-faced. Harry bit his lip to stop from snickering.

"He's on the fourth floor, room three. Do be quiet in the corridors."

"Certainly. Thank you." Snape guided Harry away from the desk. Harry thought they were going to take the lift, but as they reached it, Snape kept on walking. 

"We're not taking the lift?" Harry asked, confused. 

"What have I taught you about small spaces with only one exit?" 

"Ah."

"We're taking the stairs." Snape pushed a door open, leading to a massive staircase that went several floors up. "Stay close."

Harry did, and by the time they reached the fourth floor, he was slightly out of breath. As they rounded a corner to the corridor, a Healer blocked their way. 

"Mr Snape?"

"Yes?"

The Healer lowered his voice. "Dumbledore just contacted me and alerted me of your visit. This way, please."

Harry wondered how Dumbledore could have contacted the Healer so quickly, but he lost his train of thought when they reached door number three. The Healer went inside first, and Harry followed him with hesitant steps. Snape closed the door behind them. 

It was a private room, small and dimly-lit, with a single bed against the wall. Remus lay in it, and he looked lifeless. Harry swallowed, and shuffled closer to the bed. Remus' face had an odd gray color and his breathing was shallow. 

The Healer started talking about curses Harry'd never heard of, and he wished the man would shut up already.

"Stay here," Snape said in his ear. "I'm going to talk to the Healer just outside the door."

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, grateful Snape was willing to give him some privacy. When Snape and the Healer had left, Harry stepped a little closer to the bed. He wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't even sure if Remus could hear him. 

"Remus?" he asked, softly. He reached for Remus' hand. It felt cold against his clammy palm. "I'm so sorry I yelled at you that evening when you left. I'm so sorry I got angry with you. I know I was being childish. And I shouldn't have taken my temper out on you."

"Harry?" Remus' voice was very soft. Remus didn't open his eyes, but he did turn his face towards Harry. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," Harry said, squeezing Remus' hand. "I'm here. How are you feeling?"

"Awful."

Harry released a nervous snicker. "You look awful, too."

A tiny smile tugged on Remus' lips. "I'm sure I do. How did you get here?"

"Snape took me. He's been very helpful. I've learned a lot from him."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Do you need anything?" Harry asked. "I can send you some books if you like."

"Books would be nice. The Healer told me I'll be here a few weeks."

"What kind of books do you like?"

"Any book will do."

"All right. I'll have Hedwig bring you a new book every day."

Remus squeezed Harry's hand, though his eyes remained closed. "That would be too conspicuous. Once a week will do."

"Okay. And chocolate? You like chocolate, don't you? It always makes me feel better."

Remus smiled again. "Chocolate would be nice, too. Thank you."

The door opened and Snape entered the room. 

"My, my, Lupin. You look like death warmed over. Didn't your last transformation go as planned?"

"No, actually, Severus, your old friends decided to use me for target practice."

"They did an admirable job."

"You can say that again," Remus said with a soft chuckle. 

"Will you be all right?" Harry asked. He was still holding Remus' hand. 

"According to the Healers, I'll be up and running again in a few weeks."

"Potter, it's time to go," Snape said. Harry nodded at him. 

"I won't be able to visit again. It's not safe. But I'll send you books and chocolate."

"Thank you, Harry. I'm glad you visited. And thank you, Severus, for taking him."

Snape made a vague sound of disgust.

Harry gently released Remus' hand. He wasn't sure what else to say or do, and after a moment of dawdling on the spot, he leaned over Remus and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Get better soon, please." 'You're all I've left' was left unsaid. 

Remus' smile grew wider, and even though he knew Remus couldn't see him, Harry returned it. Then he followed Snape out of the room. 

"That just filled my quota of sentimental rubbish for the evening," Snape said once Harry fell into pace with him. Harry gave Snape a glare, but there wasn't any anger behind it. 

"The Healer told me Lupin isn't responding well to the normal healing potions. His condition is getting in the way of his recovery."

"I thought werewolves always heal quickly?"

"Normally, yes. But the curses he's been struck with prevent his body from recovering on its own. I suggested to the Healer we'd see if we can make a few modifications to the potions."

"We?"

"Yes. You'll assist me. It'll be a good opportunity to learn how different ingredients react to each other in a potion."

And Harry said something he never thought he'd ever say in relation to potions. "I look forward to it."

*~*~*~*~*

They arrived home quickly and safely and, as if by an unspoken agreement, retired to Harry's bedroom. Snape did cast two locking charms on the bedroom door. He took Harry's glamor off with a flick of his wand, and started undressing.

Harry also took his clothes off, and slid under the sheets naked. They'd always slept together naked, and he saw no reason why they should change that now. Snape apparently shared his view, and lay down beside him. 

"Get some sleep, Potter," Snape said. But Harry wasn't tired, because something kept gnawing at his mind. 

"What did you mean when you told me I couldn't tell Dumbledore about those potions and curses?"

Snape turned on his side to look at Harry. "I thought that was obvious. The Headmaster doesn't know I've been teaching you those, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"What?" Harry stared at Snape with wide eyes. "I thought Dumbledore wanted you to teach me those things."

"The Headmaster consented that I teach you basic defensive charms, yes. And he knows I've been tutoring you in Potions to prepare you for my N.E.W.T. class. However, he's not aware of the other subjects on my private curriculum."

"But..." Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to say, because Snape had just knocked him off his guard with that news. "But why?"

Snape stayed quiet for a few seconds. "There isn't an easy answer to that question, Potter."

"Try me."

"I do not agree with the Headmaster's decisions on keeping you in the dark. I believe last year proved it's foolish to do so. I also believe it's beneficial to teach you these skills. Without them, you're just another student. With them, you'll have the power and knowledge to eventually defeat the Dark Lord."

"But why wouldn't Dumbledore want me to have those skills?"

"Because, Potter, the more powerful you become, the more difficult it'll be to control you. And the Headmaster likes to have a certain amount of control over people."

Harry still wasn't sure what Snape was saying. He couldn't believe Snape would go against Dumbledore's wishes like that. "Dumbledore trusts you."

"I'm well aware of that. Dumbledore knows who I am. He also knows where my loyalties lie. It's his decision to trust me with your private education."

"So you just lie to him."

"Would you rather not have these skills? Would you rather sit back and wait for your next confrontation with the Dark Lord and hope you'll get lucky once again? There will be a next confrontation, Potter. Would you rather not be prepared?"

"No," Harry sighed. "I want to be prepared. I just thought Dumbledore always wanted what's best for me."

"He does, in his own way. However, the Headmaster thinks of you as a child. A boy who needs coddling and an occasional blind eye when it comes to breaking the rules. Plus, he's hesitant about giving you this much power."

"What's wrong with power?"

"Power can be tempting," Snape said, his voice deepening. "It can lead you astray."

"I'm not going anywhere," Harry objected. 

Snape smirked. "I wouldn't let you, even if you wanted to."

"All right." Harry still felt a bit shocked by Snape's revelation, but he understood why Snape was doing it. And he appreciated it. "So it's our secret?"

"Yes, Potter. It's our secret, and it's to remain that way."

Harry shifted closer to Snape, and placed his hand against Snape's chest. "Our secret," he said, and pressed a kiss to Snape's lips. 

"Now it is time to get some sleep." Snape turned off the lights, and wrapped his arm around Harry's waist. Harry closed his eyes and pushed thoughts of Dumbledore out of his mind and focused on the fact that he and Snape had another two weeks together. By the time sleep claimed him, Harry was smiling.

*~*~*~*~*

"I suggest you revise the Mirror Shield Charm today, Potter," Snape said from his spot at the table in the library.

"Can I select a few books for Remus first?" Harry asked, already standing near a bookshelf. "I promised I'd send him some books."

"Very well. You have fifteen minutes." Snape went back to the book he was reading, and Harry tilted his head and looked at titles on the shelves. 

He had no idea what Remus would like. Perhaps something about Dark Arts? It was his area of expertise, after all. Harry found a few books with titles that suggested Dark Arts subjects. One in particular caught his attention; he flipped open _Dark Arts for Daily Use_ and scanned the contents list. Then he skimmed through the pages, curious what sort of Dark Arts could possibly be of daily use. 

And there it was, halfway down page 63. The Blinding Curse. 

Slowly, Harry lowered the book and stared at Snape. "Have you been teaching me Dark Arts?"

"Hmm?" Snape didn't look up from his book.

"Answer me!" Harry snapped, stalking towards the table. He slammed _Dark Arts for Daily Use_ down in front of Snape. "Have you?"

Snape raised his head, eyes narrowed. "Potter, what did you think a curse that blinds someone is? A simple household charm?"

Harry's breath got caught in his throat. He wanted to punch Snape. "You've been teaching me Dark Arts! No wonder you want to keep that a secret from Dumbledore."

"I'm pleased to hear you're finally catching on, Potter," Snape said, and his casual tone infuriated Harry even more. 

"I can't believe you. You've been teaching me fucking _Dark Arts_." Harry kicked against the table leg in frustration.

"And what exactly is the problem?" Snape asked, tilting his head. 

"They're Dark Arts. You can't be teaching me that," Harry said, wondering if Snape was just playing dumb. But this was Snape. He never played dumb. 

"You have a squadron of Death Eaters after you, all eager to end your miserable life," Snape said, his voice gaining a nasty edge. "And you think a simple Stinging Hex or an innocent Feather Light Feet Charm is going to keep you alive? Of course I've been teaching you Dark Arts, you idiot boy. It's exactly what they'll be using against you."

"They're Dark Arts!" Harry shouted, as though that explained the entire situation. "You were going on and on about how they can unbalance your magic and how it's a downward spiral and whatnot!"

Snape leaned back in his chair. "I have said no such thing about Dark Arts. You're confusing Dark Arts with dark magic. They're not the same thing, Potter."

Harry's mouth sank open. "Then what is the bloody difference? All I know is that in school I'm taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. There must be something horribly wrong with it if we're expected to learn to defend ourselves against it."

"All dark magic are Dark Arts, but not all Dark Arts are dark magic, Potter."

"You're not making any sense!" Harry shouted. Snape regarded him with an impassive stare. 

"Dark Arts are spells and curses designed to harm an opponent, though the effects often aren't lasting. Dark magic are curses designed to inflict serious injuries on an opponent, and they release so much magic it unbalances the caster. That's the difference, Potter."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say. 

"The Unforgivables are both Dark Arts and dark magic. The curses I've been teaching you are merely Dark Arts," Snape said, and there was a hint of impatience in his voice. 

"So why are you teaching me those curses? Is that your way of luring me to the dark side? Are you trying to shape me into easy prey for Voldemort? Are you trying to unbalance my magic? Do you expect me to drop to my knees and take his cock up my arse, just like you have?"

Snape rose from his seat, looming over Harry. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?"

"I have, but I still don't like what I'm hearing!"

Lips thinning, Snape gave Harry a venomous glare. "Very well. Since you seem convinced I've been polluting you with Dark Arts, let's give you a taste of what dark magic is really like. Perhaps then you'll be able to tell the difference."

"I'm not doing anything you tell me to! I've had enough of this!"

"You will do as I say, Potter!" Snape whipped his wand out, and transfigured the book he'd been reading into a chicken. Then he shoved _Death by Wand_ towards Harry, and flipped it open. 

"There. The Blood Boiling Curse. That should do nicely. Cast it!"

"You can't make me!"

Snape's lips curled up in a nasty sneer. "Believe me, Potter, I can make you. You cast this curse right now, or I'll put you under Cruciatus for as long as it takes you to see reason." Snape's voice had dropped to an urgent whisper, and it sounded scarier than had he been shouting. A shiver ran down Harry's spine. He was quite sure Snape wasn't making idle threats. 

"You're insane." Harry tried to hold Snape's dark gaze, but Snape's eyes looked so menacing and foreign, Harry looked away from them. 

"I'm merely teaching you a lesson. Cast it!"

"No!"

"Cast it, or I swear I'll teach you the meaning of pain." Snape's wand pointed right between Harry's eyes, and for the first time that summer, Harry was afraid of Snape. 

"No," he said, softer. His hands were trembling. 

"Cast it!"

"You're mad," Harry whispered. There were tears prickling his eyes, and a sharp sting of rejection flared through his chest. "You're fucking mad." But Harry did reach for his wand.

"Cast it!" Snape sounded impossibly more threatening. 

"Cruororis Concoquo!"

The chicken made a horrible sound, a death shriek, as it fell against the table thrashing, but Harry hardly heard it. A rush swept through him, as if he'd dived down a hundred meters on his broom. As if he'd just had fifty orgasms at once. And it went on and on, and made his eyelids flutter and his knees tremble, and Harry knew without a doubt he'd never felt anything that good or that powerful before in his life. 

"Oh god," he moaned, and if it weren't for Snape's arm catching him around the waist, he'd have slumped to the floor. 

"Now that is what dark magic feels like," Snape whispered in his ear. Harry curled his fingers in Snape's robes and hung on for dear life as he fell and fell and fell. 

By the time he regained control over his mind, he was panting. "God," he whispered. "That was...that was..." But he couldn't find any words to describe the incredible rush he'd felt. 

"Yes, I know," Snape said, and he did sound as if he knew exactly what Harry meant. "Now do you understand the difference?"

Harry nodded against Snape's chest. 

"Dark Arts will not change who you are, Potter. Dark magic will." Snape stroked a hand down Harry's back. "This is the first and last time you've ever cast dark magic. Try it again, and I promise I will use you for target practice and mount you on my office wall after I'm done with you."

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "I can definitely see how this is addictive."

Snape led Harry to one of the leather chairs. He sat down, and pulled Harry in his lap. "The more you cast it, the harder it will be to stop using it."

Curling against Snape's chest, legs drawn up, Harry glanced up at Snape. "Have you ever been addicted to it?"

"There was a time in my life I enjoyed using it. However, I was forced to stop the day I moved to Hogwarts."

"That must have been hard," Harry said. He'd only used it once, and the idea of not ever feeling like that again was already slightly disturbing. 

"It was." Snape glanced down at him with a teasing smile. "Now you know why I'm not the most cheerful person at Hogwarts."

Harry snorted with laughter, and he muffled the sound by burying his face against Snape's throat. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Do be quiet. I think I'd have been more worried if you hadn't doubted me teaching you Dark Arts." Snape squeezed his arm around Harry, and it made Harry feel appreciated. 

"Is this why Dumbledore won't give you the Defense Against the Dark Arts job? Because you've had a problem with dark magic?"

"Aren't we perceptive today, Potter," Snape said with a slight sneer. 

"No, not really," Harry said in all honesty. "If I'd been more perceptive, I'd have understood what you were trying to explain to me. I'm really -- "

Snape silenced him with a kiss.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry yawned. Snape had insisted they get up at seven the next morning, so they had the whole day to work on altering the healing potions for Remus. Harry enjoyed working on potions with Snape, but he wasn't all that keen on rising early during his holidays.

"Do stop behaving like a child, Potter. It's not my fault your relatives have pampered you all your life. I'm sure you were allowed to laze about in bed all day at their house, but here there is work to do."

After listening to Snape's insults for close to three weeks, Harry didn't so much as flinch. He continued crushing the erumpent horn, and took his time to form a reply. 

"Oh yes, I know exactly what work you're referring to. Corrupting poor little me with Dark Arts and dark magic. I wonder what would happen if I told Dumbledore about all the things you've been teaching me."

Snape chuckled. "And now say it to me in parseltongue."

Every since Harry's encounter with Snape's Dark Mark, Snape had made him say random things in parseltongue. At first, Harry had needed to see an image of a snake to do so, but by now, he was able to speak parseltongue by only thinking of a snake. But he still needed Snape to tell him if he'd succeeded; parseltongue and English sounded the same to Harry. 

Harry thought of a snake – and he usually pictured a basilisk in his mind – and repeated what he'd said. Then he looked at Snape. 

"Very good," Snape said, and continued stirring the healing potion he was brewing. 

A shrill, high beeping sound filled the workroom, and Harry looked up. He had no idea what it was, but Snape stiffened at the sound. 

"If you'll excuse me, Potter," he said, and swept out the door. 

Harry watched him leave, and wondered where Snape was going. The beeping sound stopped. Perhaps it was some sort of wizarding equivalent of a phone. Perhaps Dumbledore needed to speak to Snape. 

As always, Harry's curiosity was piqued, and he was tempted to sneak after Snape. But he remembered Snape's words on it not being safe if Harry knew certain things. And he trusted Snape. Well, mostly. Snape would tell him if something important came up, that much Harry knew. 

So Harry continued with the potions ingredients, and tried not to look up at the door every ten seconds. 

After what seemed like ages, but probably came closer to fifteen minutes, Snape returned. He extinguished the fire under his cauldron with a flick of his wand, and looked at Harry. 

"I'm leaving," Snape said. 

"You can't leave," Harry said. It was the first thing that came to his mind. 

Snape arched an eyebrow. "I'm leaving, but I'll be back in three days."

"But what about...?" Harry closed his mouth. He'd wanted to say 'me', but that sounded a bit desperate. "What about my lessons?"

"Dumbledore has arranged for a replacement to supervise you the coming days."

Harry didn't like what he was hearing. He remembered Remus lying in a hospital bed. If Snape left, he could get hurt, too. "It's for Order business, isn't it?"

"You know I'm not at liberty to say. I need to pack a few things."

"I can help," Harry said hopefully. 

"No, I need you to clean up in here. Put the ingredients away. We will continue when I return. Then you're to wait in the kitchen for the replacement."

"But --"

"Potter, be quiet and do as you're told." Snape sounded distracted. He glanced around the room once, and then left. His steps were hurried. 

Harry tried to ignore the tight feeling in his chest as he placed the erumpent horn back in his potions box.

*~*~*~*~*

The kitchen looked different somehow, now Harry knew he wouldn't be sharing meals there with Snape the next few days. He hated that Snape was leaving. But he also knew there was little he could do about it. Sure, he could throw a tantrum, but Snape would hardly be impressed by that. It certainly wouldn't make him stay.

Harry sat at the kitchen table, feeling defeated, and he wondered since when he was able to evaluate his own emotions like that. 

Snape had said something about a replacement, and Harry thought about the possible options. Perhaps the Weasleys were coming to stay with him for a few days. Harry didn't have any problem with that. 

Or perhaps someone else from the order. McGonagall? Wouldn't be too bad. She could help Harry brush up on his Transfiguration. Moody? Not Harry's first choice, but he was an Auror, so he probably did know a lot of useful things. Tonks? Now that sounded like fun. 

The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the hallway, and Harry sat up straighter in his chair. Heavy footsteps followed. Definitely not McGonagall or Tonks. They had lighter treads. And not Moody either. He clunked.

The kitchen door swung open, and Kingsley Shacklebolt gave Harry a kind smile. 

"Hey there, Harry."

"Hullo, sir," Harry said. This wasn't half bad, he quickly decided. Kingsley was an Auror. Plenty of possibilities for interesting lessons. 

"It's Kingsley."

"Okay." Harry smiled at him. Kingsley wasn't wearing any Ministry robes. Instead he was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, and he carried a duffel bag. Kingsley noticed Harry staring, and chuckled. 

"It's my holidays. Only time of the year I prefer Muggle clothes."

"Would you like some tea?" Harry asked. But before Kingsley could answer, Snape entered the kitchen. 

"Ah, Shacklebolt, you're here." He gave Kingsley a nod. "I must be off at once. Potter, a word."

Harry followed Snape to the hallway, where Snape rounded on him with a severe look. 

"Potter, I expect you to behave. Don't mention any of the things we've discussed to Shacklebolt. And do keep that great brute out of my workroom. I remember him from school. He's worse at Potions than Longbottom."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He wasn't sure what else to say. 

"Very well. Then I'm off." Snape wanted to turn away, but Harry caught his sleeve. He pressed his mouth to Snape's in a rather desperate kiss. 

"Be careful," he whispered. 

"Save your sentiments for someone who needs them, Potter. Do you really believe you'll get rid of me that easily? Three days, and then I'll be back to make your life miserable." Snape's smirk was teasing, and Harry grinned in return. 

And then Snape did turn away, and a moment later the front door shut behind him with an empty click. 

Harry returned to the kitchen, squaring his shoulders. It wouldn't do for Kingsley to notice how miserable Harry felt about Snape's departure. 

Kingsley had made tea. "Milk and sugar, Harry?"

"Yes, please." Harry sat down, and smiled when Kingsley placed a cup of tea in front of him. 

"Minerva told me you want to become an Auror," Kingsley said, as he slid into a seat opposite Harry. 

"Yeah," Harry said. He felt a bit embarrassed admitting he wanted to be an Auror to a real Auror. 

"Interesting choice." Kingsley sipped his tea. "It's a good job. Tough, but good."

"I still have two years of school," Harry said, downplaying his interest somewhat. "But yeah, becoming an Auror sounded interesting enough."

"Well, I'll be here for three days. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them."

"Thanks." Harry sipped his tea. Kingsley regarded him for a moment, and then slid his wand from his back pocket.

"I heard you've been training defense charms this summer. Care to show me some in a little duel?" Kingsley's grin was wide, and Harry felt nicely challenged. 

"Sure." Harry reached for his wand as well. "In here?"

"Why not?" Kingsley rose from his seat, and Harry followed his example. They stood on opposite sides of the kitchen, and Harry waited for Kingsley to make the first move. 

As soon as Kingsley cast a spell, Harry shouted, "Protego Specularis!" He didn't even know what Kingsley had cast at him, but he didn't have to. The Mirror Shield Charm would stop nearly any spell or curse, save for the Unforgivables. 

Kingsley released a string of deep laughter. Apparently he'd cast a Stinging Hex at Harry, which had backfired on him. He rubbed his shoulder. "Looks like there isn't much left to teach you, Harry."

Smiling, Harry nodded. "Snape taught me this one. It seems very effective."

"It's one of the most useful defense charms to use in a duel. Good work." Kingsley strolled closer to Harry, and looked him up and down. "But there still are a few things I can teach you. For example, if I do this," Kingsley closed his large hand around Harry's wrist, "do you know how to stop me from flooring you?"

And before Harry knew what happened, he found himself lying on the kitchen floor, Kingsley's knee digging into his chest. 

"Er...no?" Harry said. Kingsley grinned at him, and offered a hand to pull him up. 

"There's always the possibility of losing your wand in a duel, Harry. So it's important to know how to defend yourself from a physical attack and how to take out an opponent using your body."

Harry nodded. It made sense. 

"How are your abs?" Kingsley poked at Harry's stomach, and Harry flinched. "They need work, definitely. Your abs are the center of your body. Strong abs give you good balance. Do you know how to do sit-ups? And push-ups?"

"I think so," Harry said. 

"We'll get to them later. First, I'm going to teach you a Cushion Charm," Kingsley said with a grin. "That way we can practice on each other without breaking any bones. You'll still feel the impact, though. And then I'll teach you how to lay a decent punch."

Kingsley pulled off his t-shirt, and Harry couldn't help staring at Kingsley's chest. Kingsley definitely had good abs, Harry noticed. Kingsley had a lot of really good muscles. 

"Take off your shirt, Harry. I need to show you where exactly to aim your punch. The human body has several weak spots you can exploit in a fight."

Harry took off his shirt. While he was still anything but pleased Snape had left, he did start to see the positive side of spending a few days with Kingsley. Having Kingsley manhandle him sounded like an excellent way to learn new things.

*~*~*~*~*

After three days of intense physical training, Harry was sore in places he didn't even know he had. The soles of his feet hurt. That back of his knees hurt. His arse hurt, though not in the way it had done after Snape had fucked him for the first time. His elbows hurt. His abs – yes, Harry had discovered he had abs – hurt.

Everything hurt. 

And yet Harry felt enormously satisfied. Kingsley, who'd turned out to be a kind man and an excellent teacher, had taught him everything Harry needed to know about engaging in physical fights. He'd put Harry on a strict regimen of daily sit-ups and push-ups, and Harry planned to keep doing them every morning. He could use a bit more muscle on his scrawny figure. 

And tomorrow, Snape would return. Finally. 

Harry had kept busy and he'd learned a lot of useful things, but he'd missed Snape. Much more than he'd expected he would. Kingsley was kind and funny and charming, but he wasn't Snape. And it wasn't just the sex Harry missed. He missed the conversations, and the bantering, and the insults, and Snape's own silent ways of letting Harry know he'd done a good job.

Harry sat down on his bedroom floor and opened his trunk. He thought he'd deserved a healing potion to help him sleep. So he took out his potions box, but just when he wanted to close his trunk again, he saw something glittering on the bottom. 

He reached inside for the object and almost dropped it again when he saw what it was. 

The mirror. The broken mirror. 

Something strong and sharp cut through Harry's insides and it made him cringe. 

_Sirius._

And Harry understood something he hadn't seen before. Snape hadn't killed Sirius. Harry had. With his own impatience and stubbornness and arrogance and stupidity. 

If he'd only gone back to the castle to contact Snape. He'd known Snape was in the Order. Or if he'd only remembered the mirror. Sirius had given it to him, and he'd forgotten all about it. 

_Sirius would be so proud of him if he could see him now. Sirius would be so proud of all the things he'd learned. Sirius would kill him for having sex with Snape._

Harry grabbed the first object he could find – his Potions textbook – and flung it against the wall. He threw another book, and another, and they landed on his nightstand, tumbling items to the floor. 

Pain ripped through Harry, but it wasn't like the pain he'd got from training with Kingsley. It wasn't even like the pain from a Cruciatus. It was pain that felt like it would never go away again. 

And it made Harry remember how good he'd felt when he'd cast that Blood Boiling Curse. Perhaps, if he just cast it again, he'd feel better again. He wouldn't feel so empty and guilty and unworthy of life. 

Snape didn't have to know Harry had used it one more time. Harry reached for his wand -- 

The bedroom door opened. "Everything all right in here, Harry? I heard a bit of a ruckus." Kingsley gave him a curious look. 

Harry dropped his wand as if it had burned him. 

"What did you do to your hand?"

Glancing down, Harry only now noticed he had his fingers curled around one of the sharp shards of the mirror. Blood seeped between his fingers. 

"Sirius gave me this," he said, his voice broken. He suddenly noticed his cheeks were moist, and he wiped at them, furious Kingsley saw him like this. Some Auror he'd make. 

"Harry, come here." Kingsley crouched down beside Harry and dislodged the shard from Harry's fingers. Then he produced a handkerchief and pressed it against Harry's bleeding palm. "Let's sit down."

Before Harry could protest, Kingsley led him to the bed. He eased Harry down, and sat beside him. 

"What just happened? Is this about Sirius?"

Harry looked away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But you need to talk about it," Kingsley said, his voice as calm as ever. "You want to be an Auror, right? Well, this is what Aurors do. It's called debriefing. We talk when something bad has happened. And I think you need to be debriefed about Sirius' death."

Glancing up, Harry gave Kingsley a dubious look. 

"I'm not pulling your leg, Harry. I can also get Moody to do the honors, but trust me, I'm a much better listener."

Harry snorted. 

"Tell me what you were just thinking when you decided to vent some of your frustration on your innocent schoolbooks."

Staring at his injured hand, Harry released a sigh. Blood was seeping through the white cotton. He squeezed his hand into a fist. "I shouldn't have rushed off to the Ministry like that."

When Harry stayed silent, Kingsley said softly, "Go on."

"If I hadn't rushed off to the Ministry like that, Sirius would still be alive."

Kingsley nodded. "Let me tell you something about making decisions. It's an important part of what an Auror does for his job. We have to make decisions, and sometimes it's hard to see all the possible consequences."

"Yeah, but if I'd only stopped to think -- "

"I wasn't finished yet, Harry," Kingsley said, his voice patient. "Please listen."

Harry nodded, worrying his lip. 

"Now, why did you decide to go to the Ministry?"

"Because I thought Voldemort had captured Sirius," Harry said, trying to see what Kingsley was getting at. "But if I'd only --"

"So you thought Sirius was in danger. And all the information you had led you to believe this. You couldn't predict any other consequences at that time. What did you think would happen to Sirius if you decided not to go to the Ministry?"

"I thought Voldemort would kill him. But if --"

"So you decided to go to the Ministry to save Sirius' life, am I right?"

"I suppose," Harry said, still not sure what Kingsley meant to say.

"Good. I want you to remember this. You decided to go to the Ministry, because you thought, based on the information you had, Sirius would die if you didn't."

"Yeah."

Kingsley smiled at him. "Now I want to focus on a different part of this puzzle. Tell me, who decided Sirius should go to the Ministry?"

"Er..."

"Did you decide Sirius should rush in to save you?"

"No."

"Then who did?" Kingsley asked, as though he didn't know the answer. "Dumbledore? Snape? Remus? Me? Moody?"

"No," Harry sighed. "Sirius decided to come after me."

"Ah." A small smile tugged on Kingsley's lips. "Sirius decided, against others' advice I may add, to go after you."

Harry nodded. 

"And Sirius knew that one of the possible consequences of his actions was death. He made that decision with a clear mind. He knew, based on the information he had, what could happen to him. It's something we all know and consider, every time we face our enemy."

Harry nodded again. 

"You decided to go to the Ministry because you thought Sirius would die if you didn't go. That's all you knew. And Sirius decided to go to the Ministry, knowing full well what could happen to him. Whose decision weighs more heavily on what happened that day?"

Harry tugged on the corner of the handkerchief. "Sirius'," he whispered. 

"Yes. Tell me who cast the curse that sent Sirius behind the veil."

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Yes. Now tell me who is responsible for Sirius' death."

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Yes," Kingsley said, and placed his hand on Harry's knee. "She's the only one who is responsible for what happened. We all have to make decisions, we do it every day of our lives, and we do it based on the information we have. But having a decision turn out differently than we anticipated doesn't make anyone responsible for someone's death. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Harry opened his hand, the handkerchief falling away. The cut on his palm had stopped bleeding. "Yeah."

"Good." Kingsley squeezed his knee. "There's something else you should know. It's perfectly all right to be angry. It's all right be feel hurt. And it's even better to put those emotions into actions. Do you want to climb on top of the roof and scream for a bit? Say the word, and we'll do it."

Snickering, Harry shook his head.

"You want to go another round with me?"

"I'm too sore," Harry whispered, feeling an embarrassed flush heat his cheeks. 

Kingsley laughed and clapped him on his back. "We'll toughen you up. Feel better?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and he meant it. "Thanks."

"It's all part of being an Auror. You'd better get used to this if you want to join us." Kingsley got up from the bed. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night." When Kingsley left the room, Harry fell back against the sheets. He was tired and sore, and even though he thought he'd lay awake for a long time to process everything Kingsley had told him, he fell asleep almost at once.

*~*~*~*~*

"Come on, Harry, you can do better than this!" Kingsley shouted, and Harry shrieked with laughter. Kingsley had him pinned down to the couch in the drawing room. As they waited for Snape to return, Kingsley had suggested one last lesson in dislodging your opponent, and Harry had happily accepted the offer.

"Use your legs!"

"You're twice my size," Harry said, his voice muffled by the pillow in his face. 

"It's not about size. It's about how you use what you've got."

The door to the drawing room opened, and Harry could just peek over the armrest to see Snape standing in the doorway. 

Snape looked murderous. And Harry had a pretty good idea why. He was well aware of how suggestive everything looked. Harry face-first on the couch, Kingsley lying half on top of him, while they were discussing their size.

"Potter. Shacklebolt," Snape said, his voice so cold Harry expected ice to appear on Snape's black robes. Snape turned on his heel, and marched up the stairs. 

"Isn't he happy to be back," Kingsley said, pulling away from Harry. 

"Actually, I think that was his happy face," Harry said, trying to mask the discomfort he felt. 

Kingsley laughed. "Well, your guardian has returned. Time for me to go."

"All right." When Kingsley had picked up his duffel bag, Harry walked him to the door. "Thanks," he said, and didn't think that was adequate. "For everything. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Harry." Kingsley held out his hand, and Harry shook it. "Keep up with your exercises."

"I will."

"See you around." Kingsley gave Harry one last smile, and stepped through the front door. Once he was gone, Harry released a deep breath. Time to deal with Snape. Harry had been looking forward to his return, but now he felt hesitant about talking to him. He hoped Snape wasn't too pissed off. 

Harry took his time to climb the stairs, hoping he'd find his courage somewhere along the way. He still felt quite uncomfortable when he reached Snape's door. He knocked once, and then entered. 

"I'm busy, Potter. Go away," Snape snarled. He was unpacking a bag. 

"No," Harry said, and ignored Snape's glare. "I have a few announcements to make."

"Perhaps you should share them with Shacklebolt. You seemed close enough to him all of a sudden."

Harry bit his lip so he wouldn't laugh. Snape was jealous. It made Harry want to shout with joy, but he controlled himself. Snape wouldn't appreciate his sudden cheerfulness.

"No, they're announcements you should hear."

Snape released a sigh. "I'm not interested."

"I don't care," Harry said, and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "My first announcement is that I'm gay. I'm so very gay."

That earned him an arched eyebrow from Snape. "Don't waste my time with things I already know."

"Maybe you knew for certain, but I still had my doubts. I thought maybe it was just you. But it's not."

Snape's eyes narrowed, and Harry realized how what he'd said must sound. 

"Nothing happened," he said, quickly. "Kingsley is very straight, for as far as I know. But being away from you and actually spending time with another bloke made me realize I feel attracted to men in general."

"Congratulations. Now get out."

"No, I'm not done yet." Harry inhaled a deep breath. "And I figured out who is responsible for Sirius' death."

Snape stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder at Harry. 

"It's not me. It's not you, either. It's not even Dumbledore. It's Bellatrix Lestrange."

"And that took you eight weeks to realize? Your incompetence astounds me, Potter."

"Yeah, well, you know me and my enormous ego. It took me a while to deflate it enough to see the world doesn't revolve around me."

That got him a smile, but Snape turned his face away quickly. "Are you done yet?"

"No." Harry stepped closer to Snape. "I want to tell you that I missed you."

"If you dare waste my time with foolish sentiments, I will hex you."

Harry sat down on Snape's bed so he could look up at Snape. "And it's not just the sex. Though I did miss the sex an awful lot. But I missed _you_."

"I think you've been breathing in too many potions fumes," Snape said, shaking his head. "But as it seems you can't stop babbling, you may as well tell me what you've been up to these last three days. I do hope you've not wasted all your time bonding with Shacklebolt."

Harry smiled. God, he'd missed Snape talking to him like that. He dropped back against the bed, stretching his arms over his head. "I've spent three days getting in touch with the human body. Kingsley is an expert on the human body, Plus, Kingsley likes it hard. Really hard. You should see the bruises he gave me. My arse has hurt so badly ever since our first round together."

Snape's mouth sank open, and he dropped the robe he'd been about to put away in the wardrobe. Harry doubled over with laughter. He stopped laughing, though, when Snape's hand curled in the front of his t-shirt and Snape yanked him up. 

"Bruises? What has that Ministry bastard been doing to you? Did he dare lay a hand on you? I will kill him!"

"No!" Harry stared at Snape with wide eyes. He hadn't expected that response. "It was nothing like that. Kingsley's been teaching me self-defense. Physical combat."

"He hasn't hurt you?" Snape narrowed his eyes, his lips pursed into a line. 

"Well, physical combat does lead to a few bruises, but that's all part of the program," Harry said, afraid of what Snape might do to Kingsley. 

Snape snorted. "Did that man do anything to you against your wish, Potter?"

"No, honestly." Harry dropped back to the bed when Snape released his shirt. "It was very useful. I'm sorry. I was just trying to tease you."

"Do not tease me about physical abuse. I don't believe there's anything remotely funny about it." Snape turned away, his shoulders stiff. 

"Sorry. I hadn't thought of that." Harry pushed himself off the bed, and took a few hesitant steps towards Snape. He wanted to say so many things, but he couldn't find the right words. So he settled for the one word Snape loved to hear from him. 

"Please," Harry whispered, and ran his fingers down Snape's arm. "Please."

Snape turned his face towards Harry, and Harry moved his hand up Snape's chest, and a second later, Snape's hand caught his. Harry flinched at the flare of pain that shot up his arm. Narrowing his eyes, Snape turned Harry's hand palm up. The cut looked raw and red. 

"What happened?"

"I had an accident last night," Harry said, shrugging. 

"And that idiot Auror didn't bother to heal it?" Snape reached for his wand. 

"No, I didn't want it to be healed." Harry pulled his hand away from Snape. "I want the scar. It's important."

Snape didn't seem to find that odd. "Very well," he said, and raised a hand to cup the back of Harry's neck. He leaned closer to Harry, but Harry pulled back from him. There was one last thing he needed to tell Snape. 

"I...er...I was tempted last night."

"Tempted?" Snape's voice tightened. 

"Tempted to use dark magic." Harry glanced down, but Snape cupped his chin and forced his head back up. "But I didn't use it," Harry added quickly. 

"Why were you tempted?"

"I was trying to deal with some issues. About Sirius. And I felt so fucked up, and I thought that if I used that I'd feel better, but I didn't do it."

Snape pursed his lips and stayed quiet for a long time. "I'm changing our rules," he said, suddenly. "You may cast all the dark magic you want." Snape pulled Harry's wand from his pocket and pressed it in Harry's hand. "Here, go right ahead."

Staring at Snape with wide eyes, Harry didn't understand what he was saying. 

"But I can assure you one thing, Potter. If you start using dark magic, you won't defeat him. " He leaned closer to Harry again, his lips brushing Harry's cheek. "If you use dark magic, you will become Lord Voldemort," he whispered in Harry's ear. 

A cold shiver trickled down Harry's spine. "I don't want to become him."

"See that you don't. Because I will kill you if you do." Snape crushed his lips to Harry's in a harsh, brutal kiss. Harry answered it, his teeth clinking against Snape's, tongues tangled and lips pressed together hard enough to bruise. 

A warm wave of relief washed over Harry as he curled his arms around Snape's neck, his wand clattering to the floor. Snape was back and he was alive and he didn't hate Harry. He wanted Harry, and Harry wanted him more than he'd ever done. 

Harry pulled back from their kiss, panting against Snape's swollen lips. "If I ever become like him, I want you to kill me, too," he said, and meant every word of it. 

"I won't let you," Snape said, and he sounded as though he meant it as well. 

"Good," Harry said with a smile. "Now, please, fuck me."

Snape replied by devouring Harry's mouth again.


	4. Chapter 4

"If we convince the Headmaster you need more private tutoring, there is no reason we can't continue spending a few hours together at Hogwarts," Snape said, tapping a finger against his tea cup. "Tell the Headmaster you find the defense lessons useful, and that you're not secure yet in using Occlumency."

Harry nodded. He wanted to continue to spend time with Snape when they were back at Hogwarts. He couldn't imagine not seeing Snape anymore after they'd spent half the summer together. 

"You do realize we must be careful," Snape continued. "You are not to tell your friends a thing about what we do together, understood? If anyone asks, you're taking remedial Potions again."

"Yes, sir."

"And you must understand I won't treat you any differently in my class than I have done before."

Harry smiled. "I'm used to the insults now. The only thing that bothers me is that I won't be able to insult you right back."

"Oh, but you can. That way I can squeeze in a few convenient detentions," Snape said smoothly, his lips curving up in a suggestive grin. 

"I have a feeling Gryffindor is going to lose a lot of points this year," Harry said, and laughed. 

"Indeed."

Still snickering, Harry stared down at the table top. Snape's stained fingers curled around his tea cup. Harry looked at his own hands. Four weeks of working with certain potions ingredients had discolored his fingers as well. He didn't mind, though. It gave him a constant reminder of what had changed between him and Snape. 

A crack sounding from the hallway announced Dumbledore's arrival. 

"Good morning," Dumbledore said, cheerful as ever, as he entered the kitchen. "Oh no, don't get up, Severus. I'll find myself a cup."

"Morning, sir," Harry said as Dumbledore summoned a cup and joined them at the table. 

"Ah, a cup of tea. I haven't had time yet to sit down this morning," Dumbledore said, leaning towards Harry as though he was sharing an important secret. 

Harry smiled, and Snape looked as though he wanted to upturn the teapot over Dumbledore's head. 

Sipping his tea, Dumbledore looked between Harry and Snape, taking his time to observe them. "Only two more days," he said. "Are you looking forward to returning to Hogwarts, Harry?"

"Yes, sir." 

"Good, good. I think Severus requested an evaluation of your summer lessons."

"Indeed, Headmaster," Snape said, straightening in his chair. "The boy has made progress, though he has requested we continue our Occlumency lessons at Hogwarts. And offering the boy remedial Potions also wouldn't go amiss. Merlin knows he'll need it to survive my N.E.W.T. Class."

Dumbledore nodded. "Harry, how do you feel about this?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I agree with Professor Snape. I'm still not perfect at Occlumency, though I am doing better than before. And yes, Potions has never been my strong point, and I'd really like to pass Professor Snape's class."

"I see no problem with any of this. You two can arrange your private lessons together. Do you have any objections, Severus?"

Snape looked rather sour, but he shook his head. "Perhaps we can also continue our defense lessons. I believe the boy found them useful."

"I did, yeah."

Dumbledore's lips curved up in a tiny smile. "I'm not sure that will be necessary. I can assure you, I've found a competent new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Who have you hired, Headmaster?" Snape asked, and his tone suggested he wasn't assured at all. 

"Professor Krum."

"Krum?" Snape asked. 

"Viktor Krum?" Harry echoed. 

Dumbledore nodded happily. 

Snape rolled his eyes. "I see you've resorted to hiring students now."

"I assure you, Severus, Professor Krum is more than qualified to teach this class."

"Perhaps a bit overqualified, I should think," Snape said, and sipped his tea. Dumbledore gave him a peculiar look, though Snape ignored it. 

Harry watched them quietly. He didn't have any problems with Krum teaching them. Sure, Krum was young, but he had seemed competent at Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

"Professor McGonagall requested that I ask you how you feel about the position of Quidditch captain this year, Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened. "I thought I was banned?"

"That ban has been lifted," Dumbledore said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Shall I inform Minerva you accept the position?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry beamed, and even Snape's disgusted look didn't temper his excitement.

"If that is all?" Dumbledore asked, and finished the last of his tea. 

"Actually, there's something else I'd like to ask you, sir," Harry said. "My friends asked if I could meet them in Diagon Alley tomorrow, to buy our new school supplies. I'd really like to go."

"I told the boy it's too dangerous," Snape said, before Dumbledore could reply. 

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but Harry interrupted. "And I told Professor Snape the entire Weasley family will be there to keep an eye on me."

"And then I informed the boy the Weasleys will be busy enough keeping their own brood under control."

"And I reminded Professor Snape he could cast a glamor charm on me again."

"Of course, I was forced to tell the boy experienced wizards can see right through such a charm."

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, watching their interaction with an amused gleam in his eyes. 

"Perhaps Professor Snape is forgetting his own area of expertise," Harry said, grinning. "I could always use Polyjuice Potion."

Snape kicked against Harry's shin under the table. "You see, Headmaster, why the boy desperately needs remedial Potions? He doesn't even remember it takes a month to brew Polyjuice Potion."

Harry's cheeks flushed as he realized he'd almost said too much. "Well, perhaps Professor Snape can supervise me tomorrow."

"The boy's ignorance constantly astounds me. I can't be seen in public with the boy, as well you know, Headmaster."

"I believe Professor Snape is unaware of simple means to disguise himself," Harry said, feeling smug. "He could always borrow my invisibility cloak."

Snape opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again after a few seconds. 

"Well, that's settled then," Dumbledore said, getting up from the table. "You will use Harry's cloak to supervise him tomorrow, Severus." He smiled at them both. "I'm pleased to see you two have got past your animosity this summer. I will see you both in two days."

"Bye," Harry said. 

"Headmaster," Snape said, sounding annoyed. 

As soon as Dumbledore had left, Harry looked at Snape with a grin. "You want to go upstairs and show me how well we've got past that animosity?"

Sighing, Snape offered Harry a reproachful look. "Work before play, Potter. Or perhaps you don't want Lupin to recover anytime soon."

"Right," Harry said. They were close to finishing the modified healing potion. "Play later." He followed Snape out of the kitchen, feeling strangely happy Snape would join him in Diagon Alley the next day.

*~*~*~*~*

"Your friends don't need to know about my presence," Snape said as they stood in front of the kitchen fireplace. "They would only risk my exposure."

"Okay," Harry said. He handed Snape his invisibility cloak. Snape seemed quite smug about taking it from him. 

"After I leave, wait five minutes before using the Floo. That way I can make sure the Leaky Cauldron is free of any possible threats."

"Okay," Harry said again. "I'll see you there. Well, not see, exactly."

Snape sneered, and then stepped under the cloak. An invisible hand threw some Floo-powder into the fire. "The Leaky Cauldron!"

Tapping his foot, Harry waited and waited until he thought five minutes had passed. He checked to make sure he had his wand and his money pouch, and a handful of Floo-powder later, Harry tumbled out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. 

The place was crowded, and an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. Until an invisible hand on his shoulder told him he wasn't alone. 

"Three-and-a-half minutes, Potter," Snape whispered in his ear. "When are you ever going to learn to follow simple rules."

Harry snickered in response. He glanced around the pub again, and spotted a gathering of redheads in the corner. 

"Ron! Hermione!"

"Harry!"

And before long, Harry was surrounded by his friends and their family and things seemed as normal as they'd ever been. Though as they strolled through Diagon Alley, Harry was constantly aware of Snape's invisible presence. An occasional brush of fingers over his arm or shoulder made sure he didn't forget. His friends were oblivious, and chatted as though their most hated Professor wasn't hearing every word they said. 

They visited the Quidditch shop and the apothecary, and they stopped by Fred and George's new shop, at which point Harry was sure he heard Snape mutter behind him, "Dear sweet Merlin, spare me."

Their last stop was Flourish and Blott's, to buy their new schoolbooks. When Hermione was engrossed in their new Transfiguration book, and Ron and Ginny were arguing with their mother, Harry felt a hand settle on his shoulder. 

"If you want to purchase a few useful Potions books, I suggest you go to the first floor," Snape whispered behind him. Harry nodded, and climbed the stairs, making sure he wasn't followed. 

There was no one else in the Potions section, and Snape pointed out useful titles by sliding them an inch off the shelves. Harry gathered them as he followed Snape around. 

"Thanks," Harry said once he had an armful of books. 

"Do try to absorb the information provided within those books."

Grinning, Harry placed the books on one of the reading tables, and reached out his arm. He felt Snape's chest, and a few clever moves later, he'd wormed himself under the invisibility cloak with Snape. 

"Hi," he said, smiling up at Snape's surprised eyes. 

"Mr Potter," Snape started, but Harry cut him off by licking his tongue across Snape's bottom lip. 

"Come on," Harry said, making sure his tone was daring. "I know you must appreciate the idea of molesting James Potter's son under his own cloak."

A slow smirk appeared on Snape's face. "Ten points to Gryffindor." 

Harry captured Snape's lips in a searing kiss, pushing his tongue inside Snape's mouth. Snape answered it, and Harry sagged against him, surrendering to Snape's tongue. He was kissing Snape in public, with his friends just one floor down, and that was such a forbidden and thrilling idea, Harry's cock started to get hard. He pressed his hips against Snape, and Snape kissed him harder in response. 

"Harry?" Hermione's voice was accompanied by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. 

Gasping, Harry broke away from their kiss, and slipped out from under the invisibility cloak. 

"Harry?" Hermione asked, as she rounded the bookcase. "Are you all right? You look a bit flushed."

"Er..." Harry was at a loss of what to say. Hermione's gaze traveled down his body, and her eyes widened. Harry's trousers weren't wide enough to hide his obvious erection. 

A book dropped to the floor to Harry's right, and as he glanced in that direction, the sign above that aisle swung as though someone had slapped against it. The sign read 'Adult Section'. 

"Er..." Harry said again, and pointed at that aisle. "I was going through some of those books."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, and giggled, her eyes shining with amusement. "Oh, Harry, I've read all about teenage boys and their hormones. But honestly, a bookstore is hardly the place for these kind of things."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, laughing. "But it kind of has a mind of its own."

Giggling even louder, Hermione's cheeks flushed red.

"God, this is embarrassing," Harry said, but he too couldn't stop laughing. Having been caught by Hermione did convince his cock to give up and relax. Hermione wiped at her eyes and tried to catch her breath, and Harry did the same. 

When they had calmed down, Harry picked up his pile of books. 

"What are those?" Hermione asked. 

"Snape gave me a few titles to buy," Harry said. "Potions books. They should help me get through my N.E.W.T.s."

"Can I see them?"

"Of course." Harry let Hermione pick a book from his pile, and she skimmed it as they walked down the stairs to join the rest. 

"What was so funny?" Ron asked. "I could hear you laughing like mad."

Hermione started giggling again, and Harry gave Ron a knowing look. "I'll tell you later, mate. This isn't something your mother or sister should hear."

Ron seemed content with that, and Harry strolled to the counter to pay for his books. As he waited at the end of the short queue, he felt Snape's hand on his shoulder. 

"Nice recovery, Potter," Snape whispered. Harry snorted in response. "Do you have enough money to pay for those?" 

"Yeah." Harry stepped up to the counter, and hoped the sales witch wouldn't notice the embarrassed flush still heating his cheeks. 

Once everyone had bought their books, they decided they had earned a treat, and they made their way to Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Harry, Ron and Hermione got a table of their own, just out of earshot of the rest of Ron's family. Harry licked his lips at the sight of the enormous sorbet he'd ordered. 

Hermione leaned closer to them both. "Harry, have you considered continuing the DA this year? I'm sure you've learned a great deal this summer you can teach to the rest of us."

"Actually, no, I hadn't thought of it," Harry said in all honesty. "I don't think I'll have time to continue with the DA. There's our N.E.W.T. classes, and Quidditch, and I have to take remedial Potions, and that other thing I've been practicing."

Hermione seemed to consider that.

"Plus," Harry continued, "Dumbledore told me he's hired a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. The DA won't be necessary, I think."

"Who?" Ron asked, as Hermione shot Harry a curious glance. 

"You may not like this, Ron," Harry said, sounding apologetic. "Viktor Krum."

"Viktor?" Hermione shrieked, and immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. "That's fantastic. He hasn't said a word about it in our letters, though."

"Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise," Harry mused. 

Hermione smiled, looking radiant. Ron was staring daggers at her. 

"Yeah, well, maybe now you can finally go out with Vicky, after all those novels you've been writing to him last year," Ron said darkly. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione said. "Viktor will be my Professor, and I'll be his student. If we were to be anything more than friends, he'd get fired."

That actually seemed to cheer Ron up. "Then you definitely should go out with him this year."

Harry didn't like the direction their conversation was going. "Hey," he said to Ron. "It could be worse." Ron arched an eyebrow. "It could be Snape," Harry said, grinning. He was rewarded by an invisible flick of fingers against his ear. 

"God, yeah," Ron agreed. "Imagine that. I'm finally rid of that greasy bastard and his stupid Potions class, and then I'd be stuck with him for another two years."

Ron's glass of pumpkin juice mysteriously fell over and spilled in his lap. "Bugger, how did that happen!" Ron reached for the pile of paper napkins, and Harry laughed so hard he had to hold onto his stomach. 

After he'd caught his breath, Harry gently steered their conversation away from Snape. He didn't want to risk Ron ending up with his sorbet in his face if he made anymore comments about Snape. 

And Harry felt good and comfortable being around his friends again. And knowing that Snape was there and was watching over him made him feel even better. And for the first time that summer, Harry thought his next school year may very well be the best yet.

*~*~*~*~*

"Harry, let's go find an empty compartment!" Ron yelled at him from across the platform. Harry waved at him in response, and then said his goodbyes to Kingsley, Moody and Tonks. They'd walked him to King's Cross safely, after Snape had left for Hogwarts by Floo that morning.

"Thanks," he said to the three Aurors, and hurried after Ron, dragging his trunk and Hedwig's cage with him. 

Hermione found them an empty compartment, and they were joined by Neville, Ginny and Luna. As soon as the train pulled out of the station, they were chattering away about their holidays and the new school year. 

And though there was a lot Harry couldn't tell his friends, he did tell them plenty of what had happened, such as how Snape had bested him at their defense game every single time. Of course, he didn't mention the rewards Snape had earned. Neville seemed intimidated by the idea of taking on Snape in a duel, Ron disgusted, and Hermione looked proudly at Harry. 

After an hour, their compartment door slid open to reveal Draco Malfoy, flanked as always by Crabbe and Goyle. 

"Potter," Malfoy said, sounding like Harry's name was a threat all on its own. 

"Piss off, Malfoy," Ron replied, but Harry rose to his feet and stepped up to Malfoy. 

"Let me handle this," he told his friends, and then he gave Malfoy his best sneer. Harry'd grown a few inches over the summer, and he could look Malfoy right into his silver eyes. 

"Malfoy," he said pleasantly. "Your summer must have been horrible, what with your father still serving time in Azkaban. What happened? Why didn't Voldemort break him out? Did you refuse to drop to your hands and knees and take Voldemort's cock up your arse?"

Malfoy whipped out his wand, looking furious, but Harry immediately grabbed Malfoy's thumb and twisted his wrist. Malfoy's wand clattered to the floor, and Harry silently thanked Kingsley for teaching him that trick. 

He reached for his own wand, and pressed the tip to Malfoy's throat. 

"I will kill you, Potter," Malfoy snarled. "Mark my words."

"Oh, please, Malfoy," Harry said, sounding bored. "I've dueled Lord Voldemort himself. Twice. And I lived to tell the tale. Do you really think your empty threats mean anything to me? I suggest you go deflate your ego, and come back when you have some real power to back those pathetic words."

"You haven't the balls to hex me, Potter," Malfoy said, though he looked far less sure of himself now that he didn't have his wand. 

Harry lowered his wand. "You're right. I'm not going to waste any magic on you. You don't deserve it." 

Malfoy wanted to say something, but Harry cut him off. 

"Instead, I'm going to do this." Harry drew his fist back, and slammed it against Malfoy's pointy nose. It gave a satisfying crack, and Malfoy doubled over, blood pouring down his mouth and chin. 

"I suggest you get that looked at," Harry said, grinning. "It's definitely broken."

"Get him!" Malfoy shouted. 

"You want to try me?" Harry asked Crabbe and Goyle, raising both his wand and fist. 

"No," Goyle said. "We don't want any trouble."

"Good." Harry pushed Malfoy away from their compartment door. "Then I suggest you two bugger off and take this little boy with you." Then he shoved the compartment door shut in Malfoy's face. 

"That felt good," he said, turning towards his friends. They were all staring at him with wide eyes and mouths hanging open. "Did I mention Kingsley taught me physical combat this summer?"

Ron howled with laughter, slapping his thighs. "Harry, that was brilliant!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. He thought it had been brilliant. He only regretted Snape hadn't seen it. Though he imagined Snape wouldn't be too pleased with Harry attacking one of his students.

"Remind me not to piss you off," Neville said, and then he laughed. Harry shook his head, sat down and rubbed his sore knuckles. 

"Damn, but Malfoy's skull is thick," he said, which sent his friends into another round of laughter.

"Harry," Hermione said, after she'd stopped giggling. "I hope you do realize that Malfoy isn't going to let this slide. I suggest you watch your back at school."

"Oh, he's welcome to try something," Harry said, snickering. "I'll be ready for him."

*~*~*~*~*

Malfoy was late for the welcoming feast. When he strolled in halfway through dinner, Harry noticed his nose looked black and blue. Harry's friends noticed it, too, and Malfoy was greeted with a round of laughter from the Gryffindor table. Harry expected punishment for his actions, but neither McGonagall, Dumbledore or Snape took points from him.

It wasn't until the next evening Snape mentioned the incident. Harry met with Snape for his first remedial Potions class, and Snape insisted they practice Occlumency before engaging in any kind of play. 

"That's enough for this evening," Snape said, after their third round. Harry took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. He was more than adequate at Occlumency these days, but it still exhausted him. 

"Do you care to tell me what happened to Malfoy last night?" Snape asked, studying his wand. 

Harry snickered. "He fell onto my fist."

Snape didn't look amused. "Potter, I suggest you tell me what happened if you don't want me to take fifty points from Gryffindor on your behalf for beating up one of my students."

Shrugging, Harry glanced down. "He harassed us on the train. Threatened to kill me. So I punched him. He's had it coming for six years."

"Hmm." Snape seated himself on the edge of his desk. "I won't take points, because Malfoy hasn't reported the incident, though it's obvious what happened to him. Students all over the school were babbling about it today."

"All right," Harry said. 

"And I don't think Malfoy was making idle threats."

Harry glanced up at Snape, narrowing his eyes. 

"You know Malfoy's contacts, Potter. It's not inconceivable Malfoy is going to try something against you in the hopes of impressing a mutual acquaintance of ours."

"To get his father out of Azkaban," Harry guessed. 

"Possibly. I suggest you be very careful around Malfoy this year." Snape straightened himself. "You have one minute, Potter."

Harry blinked at Snape, surprised. "You want to continue our defense lessons here?"

As a reply, Snape pointed at the door of his office. "The clock is ticking."

"Shit." Harry rushed out the door, and then stood still for a moment to think of a plan. He hadn't brought his invisibility cloak, nor the Marauder's Map, because he had a genuine reason to visit Snape that evening. He hadn't thought about needing to sneak around. 

Harry turned left, and took the first corridor on his right, and found himself in a part of the dungeon he wasn't familiar with. Which wasn't a surprise, as Harry wasn't familiar with most of the dungeons. He cast a Feather Light Feet Charm, and walked down the corridor. 

Truth was, Harry didn't feel like trying very hard. He'd missed Snape the previous night, when he'd been asleep alone in his bed in Gryffindor Tower. He wanted to make up for lost time, and Snape, as usual, insisted on working before playing. 

"Stupefy!"

Harry hadn't even seen Snape appear from a corridor to his left. He hit the ground with a dull thud, and the first thing he saw after Snape enervated him was Snape's disapproving look. 

"Pathetic, Potter."

"Sorry, sir."

"Get up." Snape turned on his heel, and Harry scrambled to his feet and followed Snape back to his office. 

"I don't believe you've deserved any kind of reward this evening," Snape said, seating himself behind his desk. "You haven't even deserved the privilege of sucking my cock."

"But -- "

"Besides, I have these tests to grade. Second year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. It will keep me busy all evening. Good night, Potter." Snape pulled a stack of parchment closer, and dipped his quill in a silver inkwell.

"You gave your second years a test on their first day of school?" Harry stared at Snape with his mouth opened. 

"Of course. I wish to see how much of last year's classes stuck in their feeble minds over the summer."

"You're unbelievable," Harry said. Snape ignored him, but Harry wasn't about to go down without a fight. "Sir, you've obviously deserved a reward this evening." 

Snape crossed out at least three paragraphs with one fluent flick of his quill, and Harry flinched on behalf of the poor student who'd receive that test back.

"Don't worry, sir," Harry said as he strolled towards the desk. "I won't keep you from your work." And before Snape could reply, Harry dropped to his knees and crawled under the desk. He pushed Snape's legs apart, and tugged on the buttons of Snape's robes. 

Snape's quill scratched harder across the parchment, but Snape said nothing. 

Harry soon found his prize; Snape's cock was half-hard, and Harry felt it swell against his tongue when he sucked it into his mouth. 

The scratching of Snape's quill stopped for a few seconds, and then returned with a vengeance. 

Harry hummed around Snape's cock. He loved feeling that hard flesh between his lips and on his tongue. And after four weeks of daily blow jobs, he knew exactly how to drive Snape mad with desire. He licked under the head of Snape's prick, teasing the tip of his tongue against the most sensitive part of Snape's cock, and then sucked as much down as he could, his lips tight around the base. 

A sharp snap sounded through the office, as though Snape had just broken his quill. 

Moving his mouth up and down Snape's prick, Harry grinned, and rubbed a hand across the front of his own trousers. His cock was hard and didn't wish to be ignored. 

And then Snape's cock was gone and Snape rose to his feet. "Get up, Potter."

Harry peeked over the edge of the desk. "Huh?"

"Drop your trousers and bend over."

That Harry didn't have to be told twice. He was on his feet at once, and as he fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, he stared at Snape, who stood behind his desk, all black robes and menacing sneer, with his hard cock jutting out from between the black fabric. Harry moaned at the sight. 

As soon as his trousers and boxers were down to his knees, Harry placed his hands on the edge of the desk and presented his naked arse to Snape. "Please," he whispered. "Please, sir."

"Impatient as ever," Snape said, and inserted two slick fingers inside Harry's entrance. 

"God, I've missed this," Harry moaned, pushing his arse back against Snape's hand. 

"It's not even been 36 hours since our last fuck, Potter," Snape said, and Harry could tell by the tone of Snape's voice Snape was rolling his eyes. 

"Exactly my point." Harry tried to fuck himself on Snape's fingers. He wanted to feel more, deeper, harder. "I'm ready. Please."

"So this is your secret fantasy, Potter," Snape said, his voice darkening. He slid his fingers from Harry's body and replaced them with his cock. "Being fucked over a desk in your Potions master's office."

The combination of Snape's voice saying those things and Snape's cock thrusting inside him made Harry's arms tremble and his elbows buckle under his weight. He slumped down on Snape's desk, fingers grabbing at pieces of parchment as Snape pulled out and pushed back in hard. 

Snape was fucking him in his office, bent over his desk, right on top of a stack of Potions tests. Harry didn't think he could get more aroused, and his cock throbbed, eager for release. "Please touch me," he moaned. "Please, sir."

Snape's thrusts became harder, and the heavy wooden desk shook under Harry's body. Snape's hands dug into Harry's hips, his thumbs spreading Harry's arse cheeks wide open, and when Harry glanced over his shoulder he saw Snape was staring down, watching how his cock slid in and out of Harry's body. 

"Oh fuck." Harry bit his tongue to keep from making any more embarrassing sounds. He pushed back against Snape and felt as though Snape was splitting him open, trying to fuck his way through Harry's body. 

"Oh fuck, _please_ ," Harry groaned when he couldn't hold back any longer. "Please touch me."

Snape released a throaty chuckle, and slowed his thrusts down. His cock sheathed inside Harry, Snape rotated his hips at a torturing slow pace, his sac pressed against Harry's arse. Harry's arm flailed, and he knocked over the inkwell, red ink spilling over the side of the desk.

"God, stop being such a bastard and touch my cock already!" Harry yelled, feeling desperate for release with Snape's hot, slick cock buried so deep inside him.

"Demanding, aren't we, Potter?" Snape sounded bemused, and pulled out ever so slowly, only to thrust back in as hard as he could. 

"God, yes!"

Snape did it again, and again, and just when Harry thought he might actually lose his mind, Snape finally reached down and closed his hand around Harry's neglected prick. The touch of Snape's fingers alone was enough to make Harry come. 

"Oh yes, yes, yes," he chanted, and climaxed pearly strings over the stone floor. Snape increased his pace, hands clutching at Harry's hips, and Harry let himself be fucked, let Snape take what he needed. 

A sharp hiss, followed by a deep groan, and Snape stiffened against Harry, spurting his release deep inside Harry's body. Snape's face was tight with pleasure, and he kept his cock buried inside Harry for a while, his hands stroking across Harry's hips and lower back. 

"God, I needed this," Harry said, and glanced at Snape with a smile. 

"Hmm," Snape agreed. He slid his cock from Harry, and took a step back, giving Harry room to get up. 

"Do you need to clean yourself up?" Snape asked, tucking himself away. 

"Nah. I'll take a shower before bed." Harry reached for his trousers, and tried to make himself presentable again. 

Snape glanced at the clock. "You should leave. It's past curfew."

This was the part Harry didn't like. He wanted to crawl into bed with Snape, fall asleep curled against him, as they'd done during the summer. 

"You'll see me tomorrow in class," Snape said, as though he understood Harry's reluctance to leave. 

"Yeah." Harry curled his arm around Snape's waist, and rested his cheek on Snape's shoulder. Snape glanced down, and kissed him. Harry smiled against Snape's mouth, and drew their kiss out for as long as Snape let him. Then Snape stepped back, and Harry got the message. He turned towards the door. 

"Potter. Be careful around Malfoy," Snape said, sounding earnest. 

Harry smirked at him. "Save your sentiments for someone who needs them."

Snorting, Snape waved Harry out of his office, and Harry snickered all the way up to the Great Hall.

*~*~*~*~*

The first week passed in a blur of classes, homework, Quidditch practice, lots of remedial Potions, and not nearly enough sleep. That Monday found Harry and his friends in the Great Hall for dinner. As Harry slid down on the bench, Hedwig swooped into the hall, carrying a roll of parchment.

"For me? Thanks, girl," Harry said, accepting the letter. Hedwig nipped his finger, and took off again. 

"It's from Remus," Harry told his friends once he'd opened the letter. "I sent Hedwig to him with some more chocolate yesterday."

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm happy to tell you I've been released from St Mungo's today. The books and chocolate you've sent me have helped a great deal with my recovery, as has the potion you and our mutual friend have brewed for me. Thank you very much. And please thank Ron, Hermione and Ginny on my behalf for the lovely get-well-cards they've sent me. I'll write to them personally later this week, after I settle back in you know where._

_Your friend,_

_Remus._

Harry smiled. "He got released from St Mungo's today."

"That's great," Hermione said. Harry handed her the letter so she could read for herself. 

Ron, in the meantime, was directing his best glare at the Head Table. He'd been doing that a lot the past week. Even after their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, in which Krum had proved to know enough of the subject to be a decent teacher, Ron had kept casting him hateful glares whenever they were in the Great Hall. 

"Ron? Ron!" Hermione sounded agitated. Ron glanced at her. "Lupin is home."

"Oh. That's good," Ron said, and went back to glaring at Krum. Only the arrival of their dinner distracted Ron enough to stop his newfound obsession. 

"I'm starving," Harry said, and reached for his knife and fork. And then someone rudely pushed him in the back. Harry shifted, and saw Malfoy standing behind him. 

And Malfoy wasn't alone. He was surrounded by Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Zabini, Bullstrode and Parkinson. Malfoy shoved Harry to the side and snatched the letter from Hermione's hands. 

"What have you got there, Potter?" Malfoy handed the letter to Nott, while Crabbe and Zabini gave Ron a push. 

"Your friend Remus?" Nott said in a singsong voice. "Who is he, Potter? Your boyfriend, you little faggot?"

Harry's cheeks flushed, and he silently cursed himself. He inhaled a deep breath, remembering all the lessons Snape had taught him about control. "Are you afraid to talk to me alone, Malfoy? Is that why you need your whole class with you to come over here?"

Malfoy sneered at him, and then someone cleared their throat at the other end of the hall. McGonagall had risen from her seat and was staring in their direction. Malfoy took the letter from Nott, and threw it back at Harry. 

"Remember my promise, scarhead," he said, his voice tight. Then he patted Harry on his head, and turned away. The rest of the Slytherins followed him back to their own table. 

Harry glanced at the Head Table, and caught Snape's questioning gaze. Harry gave an almost invisible shrug in response, and turned back to his dinner. 

"I say you should punch him again, Harry," Ron said. His cheeks were flushed with anger. "Maybe that will teach that ferret a lesson."

"He was just trying to intimidate you," Hermione said, and Harry nodded at her. 

"Yeah. And he did a piss-poor job at it." Harry picked up his knife and fork again, and cut up his steak. He took a bite, and didn't bother savoring the taste. He was starving. He took another bite, and another, and when he wanted to try some of the mashed potatoes, a nasty flare of pain ripped through his stomach. 

Harry knew that feeling. He'd felt it once before, when Snape had thought it a good idea to poison him. 

Glancing at the Head Table, Harry wondered if Snape was trying to teach him a lesson again. And then he wanted to slap his own head. 

_Malfoy._ Or course. 

Snape curved an eyebrow, and Harry shook his head once, to signal him not to interfere with anything. Inhaling a deep breath, Harry looked at his friends, and once he'd got their attention, he inconspicuously reached for the last of his steak and slipped it in his pocket. 

"I'll be right back," Harry said, acting as though nothing was wrong. "I forgot something."

Ron and Hermione shared a confused look, but Harry gave them a reassuring smile. He got up, and strolled out of the hall as casually as he could. Malfoy was staring at him, and Harry gave him a smirk, as though he had just tried to poison Malfoy. Once in the corridor, Harry grabbed the piece of steak and got out his wand. 

"Toxicum Acclaro!"

A purple mist appeared around the piece of meat, and since Harry had revised the chapter on poisons after Snape's stunt, he knew exactly which poison Malfoy had used. Harry had even brewed it over the summer. 

It was called Wishful Death, and it was made from a combination of aconite and the poison of the Wandering Spider, one of the most venomous spiders in the world. The combination of those two ingredients, as Snape had explained it, ensured the only symptoms it caused were stomach pains and a slight drowsiness, while the poison killed within the hour. That's where it had got its name, because it was, in a morbid sense, a wishful way to die. 

Harry shuddered, and then forced himself to stay calm. He knew if he got excited, the poison would spread faster through his body. Focusing on his breathing, keeping it slow and deep, Harry walked to Gryffindor Tower. 

Once in his dormitory, he took his potions box from his trunk, and opened it with a touch of his hand and the password. "Dogstar," he said while thinking of a basilisk. He'd decided on a password in parseltongue, because that guaranteed no one at Hogwarts was able to open it besides Harry. 

He sorted through the vials of antidotes, and uncorked the correct one. And as he put the vial to his lips, a small flutter of panic danced through his chest. What if he'd done something wrong? What if he'd identified the poison incorrectly?

But no. Snape had taught him too well for him to make any mistakes. Harry downed the antidote, and leaned back against his trunk. He waited, biting his lip, and after a minute of stomach cramps, the pain finally dissolved. 

And for the first time, Harry silently thanked Snape for poisoning him. If it hadn't been for that experience, he doubted he'd have known Malfoy had poisoned him. He'd have probably thought he'd eaten something wrong, and feeling tired, he'd have gone to bed. And he'd have died in his sleep. 

Harry slammed his potions box shut. Malfoy was going to pay for this, and Harry knew exactly how. He got his bag, and shoved his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map into it. 

As he walked back to the Great Hall, Harry had to give it to Malfoy; it had been a perfect plan to kill him. Cause a distraction at Harry's table, pour a vial of poison over his food, wait an hour, and Harry Potter was dead. 

Harry gritted his teeth, then squared his shoulders, and stepped through the doors of the Great Hall as if someone hadn't just made an attempt at his life. He smiled at Ron and Hermione. 

"Forgot my bag," he said, seating himself beside Ron. He pushed his plate of food away. "And I've lost my appetite."

Which was true. The combination of the poison and the antidote saw to that. 

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. 

"Yeah, sure," Harry said. "Why shouldn't I be?" He looked over at the Slytherin table, and once he caught Malfoy's gaze, he gave Malfoy his brightest smile. Harry wanted to laugh at Malfoy's nonplussed look. That little ferret had to be breaking his head why Harry Potter wasn't dropping dead yet. 

Pomfrey, Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, they were all seated at the Head Table. Harry knew Malfoy had to be wondering how on earth Harry could have evaded his plan without their help. 

And then Harry realized something. "Ron? Hermione? Do you have any stomach cramps?"

"Huh?" Ron looked confused. 

"Seriously," Harry urged. "Is your stomach painful at all?"

"No," Hermione said. Ron shook his head. 

"Good," Harry said, and at their suspicious looks, he added, "Just wondering." He didn't want to tell his friends, or anyone else for that matter, what Malfoy had done. Not until after he got his revenge on that Slytherin bastard. Harry looked at the Head Table. Snape stared at him with narrowed eyes, and Harry smiled in response. Snape turned his head away with a disgusted look on his face. 

As dinner drew to an end, students and teachers started leaving the Great Hall. Harry waited until Malfoy left, and then he got the Marauder's Map out. 

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked. 

"Just checking something," Harry said. Malfoy was making his way to the Hospital Wing. Harry also noticed something else. "Oh look, Krum is coming our way." That got both Hermione and Ron off his back. Hermione started fumbling with her hair, and Ron dropped his fork. 

"I have something to do," Harry told his friends as he got to his feet. "I'll see you in the common room later." But neither Hermione or Ron heard him, as Krum had just arrived at their table. Harry hurried out of the Great Hall, and once he reached a corridor free of other students, he slipped under his invisibility cloak. The map still in his hand, Harry walked towards the Hospital Wing. Malfoy's dot was standing close to Pomfrey's dot on the map, and Harry guessed Malfoy was getting a final check up on his recently healed nose. 

Harry waited a few corridors down from the Hospital Wing, and he didn't start walking again until Malfoy left the infirmary. Smiling at his own cleverness, Harry cast a Feather Light Feet Charm on himself, and sneaked after Malfoy. As soon as he saw Malfoy's blond head come into view, Harry took his wand out. 

"Oh Malfoy," he said, thinking of a basilisk. Malfoy whipped around on his feet, looking as though he expected a giant snake to slither up to him. 

"Who's there?" Malfoy asked, getting his wand out. 

"Oh Malfoy, you naughty, naughty Slytherin," Harry whispered. The basilisk was clear in his mind as he spoke. Malfoy turned on his heels a few times, but there was no one there, save for Harry under his invisibility cloak. 

"You've deserved punishment, you nasty little boy." Harry aimed his wand, the basilisk still locked in his thoughts. "Occaecare!"

When the blinding yellow beam from Harry's wand struck, Malfoy dropped to the floor, screaming. 

Harry stood frozen to the ground. That wasn't supposed to happen. 

Malfoy screamed, legs trashing and hands clawing at his eyes. He screamed as though he'd just been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. 

Harry knew Malfoy had always been a bit of a drama queen, but this time he sounded as if he were in real pain. But the Blinding Curse wasn't supposed to hurt. Harry had just wanted to give Malfoy a good scare. 

"Shit," Harry said, and ripped his cloak off. He dropped to his knees beside Malfoy, and yanked Malfoy's hands away from his face. Malfoy's eyes weren't just bloodshot, there was blood dripping down Malfoy's cheeks. 

"Oh _fuck_." Harry was trembling, unsure what to do. He could run, and no one had to know he'd cursed Malfoy. But as much as Harry despised Malfoy, he couldn't leave him behind like that. He had to at least end the curse. 

Aiming his wand at Malfoy, Harry said, "Finite Incantatem."

Malfoy kept creaming and thrashing, as if he wasn't even aware of Harry's presence.

Harry aimed his wand again, and thought of a basilisk. " _Finite Incantatem!"_

Nothing happened. Malfoy tried to claw at his eyes again, blood now dripping down his temples to the floor, legs jerking as if he'd gone into a seizure. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Harry shoved his cloak and wand into his bag, and pulled at Malfoy's shoulder. "Malfoy, get up."

But Malfoy didn't appear to have heard Harry. 

"Draco. Draco! _Draco!_ " Harry's voice finally rose above Malfoy's screams, and Malfoy closed his mouth long enough for Harry to say, "I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing. Please get up."

"Potter," Malfoy croaked, as Harry pulled him to his feet. "What -- " Malfoy cut off and started screaming again. Harry locked his arm around Malfoy's waist, grabbed Malfoy's arm around his neck, and hauled Malfoy with him as fast as he could. Malfoy was barely walking, his feet dragging over the floor.

As they reached the corridor leading to the infirmary, Pomfrey came rushing towards them. "What is going on. I heard -- " Her mouth dropped open as she looked at Draco. "This way!" She led Harry inside the Hospital Wing and urged him towards the first available bed. Harry lowered a still thrashing Malfoy to it as best as he could. 

"What happened to him?" Pomfrey asked, waving her wand over Malfoy. Bonds sprang from the side of the bed, tightening around Malfoy's wrists and ankles. 

"A curse," Harry said, his voice trembling. "I cast a Blinding Curse on him. This wasn't supposed to happen."

Pomfrey's eyes narrowed, and Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Pomfrey look that angry before. "Well have I ever. Dark Arts." She turned towards a few younger students gathered around a patient in a bed opposite them. "You, fetch the Headmaster. You, fetch Professor Snape." She turned to Harry. "And you stay right where you are, Mr Potter."

Harry clutched both his hands in his hair, standing at the foot of Malfoy's bed. He actually felt like crying.

Pomfrey poured four different potions down Malfoy's throat, and Malfoy finally stopped thrashing and screaming. Instead, a slow, pained moan escaped from his lips. The bleeding hadn't stopped, and Malfoy's blond hair around his temples colored crimson. 

The doors banged open, and Dumbledore swept inside. He didn't even look at Harry or Pomfrey, but stopped beside Malfoy's bed and put a hand on Malfoy's forehead. He drew it back as though he'd been burned. The doors banged open again, and Snape stalked inside. He did look at Harry, and Harry flinched at the furious gleam in his eyes. 

"What happened?" Snape asked, rounding the bed so he stood on Dumbledore's opposite side. 

"I – I – I cast a Blinding Curse on him," Harry said, his voice cracking. 

"This is not the result of a Blinding Curse!" Snape roared, and Harry could tell he was really, very angry. "Headmaster, I demand the Potter boy be expelled at once!"

Harry's legs dropped out from under him, and he sank to the floor. He knew without a doubt Dumbledore would expel him for this. And he couldn't even disagree with him. He deserved to be expelled for this. He tightened both hands in his hair, rocking back and forth on his heels. 

Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry glanced up at him. Dumbledore's blue eyes had darkened with anger. 

"Harry, tell me what spell you used on Mr Malfoy."

"The Blinding Curse!" Harry yelled, feeling panicked. "I swear!" He pulled his bag off his shoulder, upturning it. Then he offered his wand to Dumbledore with trembling hands. "Please, sir. I swear, it was only a Blinding Curse. None of this was supposed to happen."

Dumbledore accepted Harry wand, and aimed it at one of the tall windows. "Priori Incantatem."

A jet of yellow light, not nearly as bright as Harry's had been, shot towards the windows. It vanished into thin air. Dumbledore looked at Snape with an unreadable expression on his face, and they both stayed quiet for a long time. That upset Harry even more. 

"Malfoy poisoned me during dinner," Harry said, and reached inside his robes. He offered the piece of steak to Snape. "There. He used Wishful Death on me. I just wanted to get back at him. I just wanted to give him a scare. The Blinding Curse isn't supposed to hurt."

"Potter, be quiet." Snape snatched the piece of steak from Harry, and muttered the identifying spell. Purple mist rose up, and Snape nodded at Dumbledore. 

"Poppy," Dumbledore started, but Pomfrey cut him off with a wave of her hand. 

"I believe I can heal him, Headmaster," she said. "Although it will take some time."

"We will leave you to it then. Severus, Harry, I wish to speak to you both in my office right away."

Harry accepted his wand back, and stuffed it in his bag along with his other possessions. Then Snape closed his fingers around Harry's upper arm and pulled him to his feet. Snape's grip was strong and painful, but Harry didn't even dare try to pull away from it as they followed Dumbledore through the corridors to his office. 

Inside, Dumbledore waved at two chairs, and sat himself down behind his desk. Harry sank down in one of the seats, feeling exhausted and scared. He pulled off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. 

"Harry, I need you to tell me exactly what happened," Dumbledore said, sounding as calm as ever, though there was nothing cheerful about his voice. "But first, where did you learn the Blinding Curse?"

Harry glanced at Snape, who sat in a chair beside him. "I – I saw it in a book in the library at Grimmauld Place," Harry said, focusing his gaze on Dumbledore. He made sure his mind was locked. "I was selecting a few books on Dark Arts to send to Remus, and I paged through them to make sure Remus would find them interesting. I saw the curse in one of them."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "Now tell me what happened this evening between you and Mr Malfoy."

Looking down at his shoes, Harry released a quivering breath. "During dinner, Malfoy came up to us and caused a distraction. He poured Wishful Death over my food. I didn't notice him doing it. But I felt it as soon as I'd taken a few bites."

"If Mr Malfoy poisoned you, why didn't you come to me or any of your other teachers?"

Harry still avoided Dumbledore's eyes. "Because I thought I could handle it on my own. I've been revising poisons over the summer."

Snape gave a tight nod of confirmation at that. 

"Where did you get the antidote?" Dumbledore asked. "I assume you took it, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here right now."

Harry nodded. "As part of his tutoring, Professor Snape made me brew a few antidotes over the summer. I took some, because it seemed convenient to have them."

"Very well. I don't believe I can find any fault in that, don't you agree, Severus?"

Snape gave another tight nod, though he seemed anything but pleased. 

"Continue, Harry."

"After dinner, I followed Malfoy. I used my invisibility cloak, because I wanted to scare him. And I used that curse, because I knew – I thought it wouldn't cause him any real damage. I thought it would blind him for a day. That seemed a good enough revenge for him poisoning me. But when I cast it, things went all wrong. I tried to end the curse, but nothing happened. So I took Malfoy to the hospital wing."

"Harry, I need you to tell me exactly what you were doing when you cast that curse. What were you thinking? Feeling?"

"I – er -- " Harry closed his mouth, staring at Dumbledore with wide eyes. "I cast it in parseltongue."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his long beard. Beside Harry, Snape inhaled a sharp breath. 

"But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not," Dumbledore said, sounding thoughtful. 

"Of course," Snape said. "We've been interpreting that incorrectly all along."

"What?" Harry asked, at a loss of what Snape meant. 

"The prophecy, you idiot boy," Snape snarled. "You have a power the Dark Lord doesn't have."

"I do?"

"Harry, when you cast this Blinding Curse in parseltongue, you altered its magic. The result was far more damaging than it should have been," Dumbledore said. "Tell me, how did casting that curse in parseltongue made you feel?"

Harry pursed his lips. He understood what Dumbledore was trying to ask him. He wanted to know if Harry had accidentally used dark magic. "It felt like casting any other spell, sir. Like casting a Levitation Spell."

Dumbledore seemed to relax at hearing that reply. "Then I think it's now time to discuss your punishment."

"I demand the boy be given detention. With me. I have a few barrels of toads that need disemboweling," Snape said, though he didn't sound as angry as he had done before. 

"Three weeks of detention with Professor Snape," Dumbledore said. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wasn't sure how Snape felt about him at that moment. But he nodded. He knew he'd deserved some sort of punishment, and he was quite relieved Dumbledore wasn't going to expel him.

"And fifty points from Gryffindor for using Dark Arts in this school," Dumbledore added. Harry nodded once more. 

"I'm sorry, sir. I swear I won't do it again."

"And Severus, I believe it may be useful if you examine Harry's ability to cast spells in parseltongue during your private lesson together."

"Of course, Headmaster."

"Now if you'll excuse us, Harry. Professor Snape and I have the matter of Mr Malfoy's punishment to discuss."

"Wait outside that door for me, Potter. Your detention will start at once."

Harry nodded at Dumbledore and Snape, got his bag, and hurried out of the office. Outside, he sagged against the wall. He still wasn't sure what had happened exactly. He did know that he'd seriously injured another student. And even if that student was Malfoy, Harry hated himself for it. 

An eternity of self-doubt later, the door opened, and Snape stepped out. He motioned for Harry to follow him. 

"What's going to happen to Malfoy?" Harry asked. 

"Be quiet, Potter," Snape said, and Harry snapped his mouth shut. He trailed after Snape until they reached Snape's office. Inside, Snape walked towards his desk, but didn't sit down. He looked at a loss of what to do.

"Come with me," he finally said, and pushed a side door open. It led to a hidden, narrow corridor, and Harry followed Snape, unsure where Snape was taking him.

Snape's private quarters, as it turned out. Harry found himself in a small living area, with a fireplace, a couch, a desk against the wall, and several bookshelves filled with books. 

"Sit down."

Harry lowered himself to the couch, sliding his bag to the floor. Snape opened the door of a small cabinet, reached for a glass, glanced at Harry, and reached for a second glass. He carried them to the small coffee table, together with a bottle. He filled both snifters, and pushed one in Harry's direction. 

"What is it?" Harry asked. He didn't recognize the bottle. The label was in French. 

"Cognac," Snape said, seating himself beside Harry. "A very old and very expensive bottle of cognac. A present from Lucius Malfoy. I think the irony won't be lost on you." Snape downed his glass, and refilled it. 

Harry took a small sip, and grimaced. He put the glass back down and glanced to his side. Snape looked as exhausted as Harry felt. 

"While under normal circumstances attempted homicide will result in expulsion, the Headmaster has decided Malfoy will remain a student at this school."

"Why?" Harry asked. He tried the liquor again, and this time it didn't taste as badly. It warmed him nicely on the inside. 

"Because, Potter, you and I both know if Malfoy is expelled, he'll go running to the Dark Lord. Dumbledore knows this as well."

"Ah."

"However, Malfoy will be serving detention until Christmas. Once he leaves the Hospital Wing, that is."

"With you?"

Snape shook his head. "Filch. And Dumbledore."

Harry drank the last of his cognac. It made his eyes water. He put the glass down and shifted a little closer to Snape. "I'm really sorry for what happened."

Replacing his glass on the table, Snape turned towards Harry. "You have no idea of the impact of this, have you, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. 

Snape cupped Harry's face with both hands. "You have a gift, a power, no other wizard has. You can alter a spell by casting it in a different language. I can't do that. Dumbledore can't do that. Even the Dark Lord can't do that."

"But I had no idea what was going to happen," Harry whispered. 

"That is of no matter." Snape got to his feet, and paced in front of the couch. "Let me put it this way, Potter. I'm quite sure you remember how to cast the Blood Boiling Curse. I suggest that during your next confrontation with the Dark Lord, you cast that at him in parseltongue, and I'm convinced that will rid us of our Dark Lord problem for good."

Harry gaped at Snape. 

"This ability makes you possibly the most powerful wizard in the world," Snape said, leaning over Harry.

"I don't understand," Harry said. He didn't want to understand it. 

"Cast a Levitation Spell in parseltongue. But don't aim at me." Snape stepped out of the way. "Go on."

Harry reached for his wand. He licked his lips, swallowing, thought of a basilisk, and then pointed his wand at the bottle of cognac. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The bottle shot up two feet, and exploded, sending liquid and glass flying everywhere. Both Snape and Harry raised their arms over their faces to ward it off. 

"I was planning on finishing that bottle this evening," Snape said, cleaning up the mess with a flick of his wand. "Thank you for depriving me of the chance of getting pissed good and proper on Malfoy's priceless cognac."

Harry managed a small smile. "Sorry."

Snape sat down beside Harry again. "Do you now see how useful this gift can be?"

"Yeah." Harry inched closer to Snape, resting his cheek on Snape's shoulder. "So you aren't mad at me?"

"Mad at you?" Snape said, as though it were the most ridiculous thing Harry had ever suggested. "Potter, I should be kissing your feet."

"Can you maybe just kiss me here?" Harry touched a finger to his lips. Snape stared down at him for a few seconds, and then cupped the back of Harry's neck, pressing a long kiss to Harry's lips. 

Harry crawled into Snape's lap, pressing his face against Snape's throat. "But Vol – the Dark Lord speaks parseltongue, too."

"But he can't alter spells with it," Snape said, stroking a hand across Harry's back. "Trust me, if he could, he'd be ruling over Britain as we speak."

"I don't want it," Harry whispered. "I don't want this power."

Snape pressed his lips against Harry's forehead. "You noble, little Gryffindor. People would sell their souls for his kind of power." He tipped Harry's chin up. "You have the power to kill him, Potter. The next time he confronts you, you won't be helpless anymore. You will kill him."

Harry lowered his eyes. "What do you suppose will happen to me if I cast dark magic in parseltongue?"

"I suggest you don't find out until you come face to face with him."

"But what if it turns me into – into someone like him?"

Snape offered Harry a teasing smile. "I told you, Potter, I won't let you." 

Harry kissed Snape, and desperately tried to believe him.

*~*~*~*~*

Snape sent him back to Gryffindor Tower a few minutes after curfew. Harry wanted nothing more than to stay with Snape, but he knew there was no way they could justify a student spending an entire night with a Professor.

Harry took his time walking back to Gryffindor Tower, trying to let everything that had happened sink in. But by the time he reached The Fat Lady, his mind was still in turmoil, and he was too exhausted to try to make sense of it. 

As he stepped inside the common room, he was met with surprised shrieks and worried faces. 

"Harry!" Hermione jumped to her feet. 

"Mate, what happened?" Ron stood in front of him at once. "Rumor has it you killed Malfoy!"

Harry stared at his friends, and memories rushed to the front of his mind. Malfoy bleeding from his eyes. Malfoy's screams echoing between the bare walls. Malfoy trashing in his arms. It was too much. Harry felt his eyes fill with tears, and he turned on his feet and rushed up the stairs. 

By the time his friends reached his dormitory, Harry had wiped his eyes dry again. 

"Harry?" Hermione took a few careful steps towards the bed. Ginny and Neville trailed behind her. 

Ron rounded Harry's bed and sat down beside him. "Harry. What's going on?"

Gesturing for his friends to join him on his bed, Harry cleared his throat, and started telling his friends what had happened. He gave them the version he'd told Dumbledore. He told them about dark magic, and what Snape had said about it. It cost him some trouble to keep his voice from cracking when he described Malfoy's condition, but he made it through the story without breaking down. 

After he finished, he was met with a shocked silence. 

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered. Hermione reached for Harry's hand. Neville and Ginny kept quiet. 

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, and squeezed his hand. 

"I'm scared," Harry said, and wiped at his eyes furiously. "I'm really scared."

"Me, too," Hermione said, and pulled Harry into a hug. Harry pressed his face against her shoulder and hoped his friends wouldn't see his tears.

*~*~*~*~*

The next afternoon, Harry pushed the doors to the infirmary open. Malfoy sat up in his bed. His hair was blond again, not the crimson that had haunted Harry all throughout the night, but his eyes were hidden behind a thick layer of bandage.

"Who's there?" Malfoy asked. 

Harry walked up to his bed. "It's Harry."

"Oh. Come to finish the job, Potter?"

"No. I've brought you some chocolate." Harry placed the slap of Honeyduke's Finest Dark Chocolate on the table beside the bed. 

"Are you going to try to poison me now?"

Harry snorted. "No. This may come as a surprise to you, Malfoy, but there is only one person on this planet I want to kill, and it isn't you."

"Whatever you say." Malfoy inched his hand towards the table, feeling his way around. He found the chocolate, and brought it to his lap. As he ripped at the paper, Harry cleared his throat. 

"I want to apologize for what I've done to you."

"Oh, please, Potter. I tried to poison you yesterday. You got your revenge. And now you want to apologize. Do grow a spine."

"I...er...didn't mean to hurt you." Harry fidgeted with a button on his robes. "How are you feeling?"

"As if I've been put under Cruciatus for about a week," Malfoy said, and snapped a piece of chocolate in half. 

"Ah. But you'll be able to see again, won't you?" 

"Pomfrey seems to think so." Malfoy swallowed his mouthful of chocolate. "Please stop being nice to me, Potter. It isn't natural."

Harry snickered. "I can't disagree with you on that."

"And now we're agreeing on something. Stop it." Malfoy tried to hide a smile by stuffing more chocolate in his mouth. 

Harry grinned, but when he realized Malfoy couldn't see it, he stopped. "I just want to say something, and then I'll be out of here."

"Get on with it."

"I will kill him, Draco. It's your decision on which side you will be when I do. That's all." Harry turned around to leave. 

"Potter?"

"Yeah?" Harry looked at Malfoy over his shoulder. 

"See you around. Soon, I hope." Malfoy rubbed his fingers over the bandage, and then broke off another piece of chocolate. 

Harry chuckled, and when he left the infirmary, he felt a bit better than he'd done all day.

*~*~*~*~*

"I've never seen a Summoning Charm lead to this effect," Snape said, hardly disguising the chuckle in his voice.

Harry stared at the torched book. "Me neither." He grinned at Snape. 

"I think that's enough for this evening," Snape said, and gestured towards the couch. Harry tucked his wand away and took a seat, while Snape summoned a pot of tea. 

They'd spent Harry's three weeks of detention examining Harry's ability to cast spells in parseltongue. They'd stuck to mundane, simple spells, but the effects always were disastrous. One of the main problems was that Harry had no control over the altered effects. Which explained why his 'Finite Incantatems' in parseltongue never led to the desired effect. If anything, they only made things worse. 

Snape hadn't made Harry disembowel those toads – he'd saved that for a couple of unfortunate third-years who'd blown up a cauldron in his class. Harry didn't mind, of course, and enjoyed the extra time he got to spend with Snape. 

"Thanks," he said, when Snape put a cup of tea down in front of him. "Work is over, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Snape sat down beside Harry, and gave him a lewd grin. 

Harry snickered, and shifted closer to Snape. His lips found Snape's, and his tongue teased its way inside Snape's mouth. Harry moaned into their kiss, and pressed closer when Snape cupped the back of Harry's head. 

"Bed?" Snape asked, as he'd done most nights of Harry's detention. 

"Yeah," Harry said, and then toyed with one of the buttons on Snape's robes. "But I wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"Well, up until now, we've always – you've always -- "

"Spit it out, Potter."

Harry worried his lip. "I was just wondering if maybe I could have sex with you sometime. If I could fuck you."

Snape's stare was impassive. 

"I mean, I like it when you fuck me. Hell, I love it, but I was just wondering what it would be like to fuck you." Harry really hoped Snape wouldn't get angry with him. 

Snape's lips quirked up. "You wish to make me the victim of your pubescent experimentation?"

"Er..."

"This would be your first time, am I right?"

"Yeah."

Snape got up, and pulled Harry up with him. "Very well. We'll see how far you get before you fall prey to premature ejaculation."

Harry had no idea what Snape had just said, only that it had sounded like consent. His cock sprang to immediate attention, though Harry didn't share its enthusiasm. Yes, he wanted to fuck Snape, but that idea also intimidated him to no end. 

"I'm nervous," he said, once they were inside Snape's bedroom. 

Snape snorted. "I suggest you be quiet. You know the mechanics. And honestly, you can't be any worse than him."

Harry leaned his forehead against Snape's chest, groaning. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"No," Snape said with a chuckle, and tilted Harry's chin up. "Now, shut up and fuck me." The searing kiss that followed made Harry's toes curl, and gave him just enough courage to start unbuttoning Snape's robes. Snape returned the favor, and soon there were hands stroking across Harry's naked chest and Harry felt warm skin under his own touch. 

"Bed?" Harry asked, sounding just a bit unsure. Snape nodded, and lay down on the sheets. Harry stared at him, at all that naked, pale flesh, Snape's hard cock lying in a patch of black hair, Snape's dark eyes regarding him, and Snape's finger beckoning him. 

Right. Harry shook himself, and crawled on the sheets beside Snape. Harry had expected Snape to position himself on his hands and knees – it was Snape's favorite position to fuck Harry. But Snape remained on his back as he parted his legs. 

"Like this?" Harry asked, tracing a finger down Snape's chest. 

"Yes. I'd like to see who is fucking me."

Of course. Harry still had trouble accepting Snape had done that with Voldemort. Harry tried not to think about it very often, though Snape didn't seem to have a problem with it. 

"Okay." Harry reached for the vial of lubricant on the nightstand. Snape drew his legs up, and Harry shifted between them, pouring lube over his fingers. Snape had done this to him countless times, so Harry knew what he was supposed to do. Still, touching the tip of his slick finger to Snape's entrance was a wondrous experience. Sliding it inside even more so.

"Yes," Snape said, and one corner of his mouth curved up. Harry found courage in that, and moved his finger in and out of Snape's body. It was hot and tight, and the thought of replacing his finger with his cock was almost too much for Harry to handle. His hand trembled, and he tried to steady it as he added another finger. 

"Yes," Snape said again, and Harry moved his fingers faster, much like Snape always did with him. Snape's mouth twitched and his brow furrowed, and Harry was lost in that abandoned expression, until Snape reminded him there was more to it than this. 

"I'm ready, Potter."

"Okay." Harry inched closer, drew his fingers from Snape's body, and stroked his cock a few times. Then he pressed the head against Snape's pucker, his hand curled around the back of Snape's knee. He pushed, and pushed again, and Snape's body gave way, and Harry was buried inside tight, slick heat. 

"Oh _fuck_ ," he gasped, leaning over Snape. 

Snape stared up at him, pupils dilating, and Harry held his gaze as he pulled his hips back and thrust inside. 

"Oh god, oh god, this is so good."

"Now you know why I prefer to do it so often," Snape said, his voice deep and hitching. Harry would have laughed, but he felt too overwhelmed by actually having his cock inside Snape. He was fucking Snape. 

Snape was letting Harry fuck him. 

"Oh god, I don't think – ah, I can last," Harry breathed, pumping his hips harder and harder, as though they had a mind of their own. Snape reached for his own cock, and stroked it hard. It made Harry want to thrust even harder, so he did, and Snape bucked his hips back against Harry. 

And they were fucking, together. 

Harry stared into Snape's eyes, and let them draw him in, capture him, like Snape's eyes always did when Harry was close to coming. Harry thrust again, as deep as he could, and his sac tensed, and he came with a strangled groan, eyes still locked with Snape's. His cocked twitched deep inside Snape's body, release spilling in uneven waves. 

"God, yes," Harry sighed. He braced himself on his arms, hands beside Snape's shoulders, and he could tell by Snape's narrowed eyes Snape was close as well. A deep groan and a curled lip, almost a smile, and Snape climaxed with Harry's cock still sheathed inside him. 

Harry felt overwhelmed. There was heat inside him, bubbling to the surface, forcing itself out his mouth. 

"I love you," he whispered, before he could bite those words back. 

Snape's eyes widened, and Harry's did, too, and Harry was sucked into a mind that wasn't his own. He hadn't know there was a connection, but he saw Snape's memories flash before his eyes. One image chased him, and unrolled in colors and sounds. 

"I demand you let me use Veritaserum on the boy, Headmaster," Snape said. 

"Severus, that really won't be necessary."

"There were incriminating memories in that pensieve! The boy had enough time to look at all of them. If the Dark Lord takes one more peek inside that child's mind and sees – Headmaster, you know what he'll do to me if he finds out."

"I'm well aware of that. However, I don't believe we should force that information out of Harry. I suggest you continue with the Occlumency lessons."

"Lessons? That boy dared invade my privacy! I will throw myself at the Dark Lord's mercy before I ever teach that boy one more lesson!"

"Severus, please do reconsider. Harry needs your expertise."

"I don't care what that boy needs, Headmaster. Good day."

Harry was thrown out of Dumbledore's office, and found himself in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place. And he was looking at himself. 

Their first Occlumency lesson that summer. The one where Harry had forced his first fabricated memory at Snape. It seemed like an eternity ago. 

And then Harry felt it. He felt Snape seize the opportunity to get a look inside Harry's mind. 

_So the boy wants to play a game. And he has no idea his mind will be splayed open when I get my hands on him. Yes, I do believe I still have a few lessons to teach him. Thank you, Harry Potter, for being a horny little brat._

Harry gasped, and he was back inside Snape's bedroom. He stared at Snape's face, and by the look of fury in Snape's eyes he knew exactly what memories Snape had seen in Harry's mind. The connection had worked both ways. 

"Get off me!" Snape shoved at Harry's shoulder, and Harry tumbled backwards and fell off the bed. 

"You were planning on getting me fired and sent to Azkaban?" Snape was shouting in a way Harry had never heard before. He sounded hurt. 

"You used me!" Harry yelled back. 

"And you didn't use me?" Snape got to his feet and loomed over Harry. "You were willing to risk my life and the entire Order for your petty revenge. You ungrateful little bastard!"

"I never saw those memories, and you did this," Harry waved between them, "just to see inside my mind. You fucking used me!"

"Yes, I used you!" Snape's eyes narrowed and a menacing sneer appeared on his face. "I used you, Potter, because you were too stupid to realize I could see right into your mind when I fucked you! I could pull up your memory of that afternoon you invaded my privacy and see exactly what you'd seen. It may very well have saved my life."

Harry gaped at Snape, and he crawled up with trembling legs. "I wasn't going to continue with my plan. Not after – I don't know, but I wasn't going to do it. I could have done it. I could have told Dumbledore everything that night he dropped by, and I didn't!"

"And how am I supposed to believe you when you've spent your whole bloody summer setting me up!" Snape turned away from him. "Get out, Potter, and don't you dare ever come back."

"You used me," Harry said, and he hated the sound of those words. He reached for his robes. "You used me."

"At least I wasn't going to get you sent to Azkaban, you little freak!"

"I wasn't going to do it."

"Get out."

Harry didn't bother pulling on his socks or his boxers. He stuffed them in his pocket when he shrugged on his robes. Then he stepped in his shoes and marched out of the bedroom. Snape followed him, fuming. 

"If you dare ever tell anyone of this, of any of this, Potter, I will personally hand you over to the Dark Lord. Is that understood?"

Swallowing, Harry nodded. "I wasn't going to do it," he said, his voice soft and trembling. "I swear. Please."

"Out!"

Harry fled. He snatched up his bag and ran out the room, through the corridor, and then out Snape's office. He ran all the way back to Gryffindor, because if he stopped running, he'd have to think about what had just happened. 

"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione asked when Harry stormed inside the common room. 

"Nothing!"

"Harry, what happened?" Ron tried, and Harry rounded on his friends. 

"Leave me alone," he said, picturing a basilisk in his mind. Hermione blanched and Ron actually ducked. Harry snorted, and marched up the stairs. Inside his dormitory, he grabbed his pillow and slammed it against the wall until it broke and feathers flew everywhere. 

This wasn't supposed to happen, he told himself over and over again. Snape wasn't meant to find out, especially not like this. And Snape wasn't meant to have used him. 

Snape had used him. 

And Harry had let him.

*~*~*~*~*

The next evening, Harry stood outside Snape's office. They had an Occlumency lesson planned, and at first, Harry hadn't wanted to go.

But as he thought about things, which he'd been able to after he'd tortured his pillow for a good hour the previous evening, he realized he needed to talk to Snape. He needed to talk to Snape about this. 

Because something about Snape's story didn't add up. 

If Snape had used him, which he had at first, then why had Snape continued fucking him? Harry now remembered Snape wanting to see Harry's eyes when he came their first few times, but after that, Snape had never insisted on it. 

Why had Snape continued fucking Harry, and why had Snape taught Harry all those things, if all Snape wanted was one peek inside Harry's mind?

It didn't make sense, and Harry wanted answers. 

So he knocked on Snape's office door. No reply came, and Harry knocked again. Nothing. He knocked, and knocked, and knocked, but Snape never answered the door. 

Harry tried the handle. The door was locked. 

Defeated, Harry turned and walked back to Gryffindor Tower. Tomorrow, he had Potions, and he vowed to have a talk with Snape at the end of class.

*~*~*~*~*

Snape was in a piss-poor mood, and he took it out on Harry even more so than usual. Students around Harry were whispering about it, and even Malfoy, who'd returned from the infirmary a few days earlier with his eyesight restored, gave Harry a questioning look at one point.

Trying to concentrate on his potion, Harry avoided Snape's eyes and didn't protest whenever Snape took points from him. Thirty so far. Snape was going for a personal record, it seemed. 

"Fill your vials, label them correctly, leave them at my desk, and get out."

Students around Harry hurried to comply, but Harry took his time, stalling long enough until he was the only student left. 

"I told you to get out," Snape snarled, when Harry walked to the desk to give Snape his vial. 

"I want to talk to you, sir," Harry said, and hoped he didn't sound as wounded as he felt. 

"I have nothing to say to you." Snape crossed his arms, sneer nastier than ever. 

"But what about our lessons?" Harry asked, because he had to ask something, even though his lessons were the least of his problems. 

"Potter, I have nothing further to teach you. When confronted with the Dark Lord, cast a Killing Curse in parseltongue. Now get out."

"But I have to talk to you."

"What you have to do is get out of my classroom." Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder and moved him towards the door. 

"But I need you!" Harry yelled, stumbling into the corridor. Snape slammed the door shut in his face. Sighing, Harry leaned his forehead against it. "I can't do this alone."

The door remained closed.

*~*~*~*~*

After two more days of trying to talk to Snape and being ignored, Harry'd had enough. When everyone else had gone to sleep, Harry sat on his bed, Marauder's Map in hand. He knew Snape often made late night strolls around the castle, looking for unsuspecting students out of bed after curfew.

Harry hoped Snape would feel like going for a stroll that night. 

Snape's dot remained in his private rooms for a long time, and then finally, just after 1am, Snape's dot moved to one of the corridors. Harry jumped up from his bed, grabbed his bag, and went in pursuit of Snape. 

And he was determined to win this round of their game. 

Harry cast a Feather Light Feet Charm, pulled his invisibility cloak on, and kept his eye on the map. 

Three more corridors, two more corridors, one more corridor, and then he saw a swirl of black robes disappear around a corner. Harry increased his pace, wand in hand, and burst out from behind the wall. 

"Stupefy!"

Snape dropped to the floor like a rock. 

"Ha!" Harry said. Finally, he'd managed to immobilize Snape. Of course, now he needed to be quick before Filch or Mrs Norris decided to inspect that part of the castle. 

"Mobilicorpus!" With Snape in tow, Harry made his way through the castle, keeping an eye on the map to make sure no one would see them. He descended the stairs to the dungeons, and stopped in front of Snape's classroom. 

The door was unlocked. Harry pushed it open and maneuvered Snape inside. Then he cast the strongest locking spell he knew, though not in parseltongue. He didn't want to risk blowing up the door. 

He propped Snape up against his desk, and inhaled a deep breath. He could still back out now. He could leave Snape there, and Snape would never know who'd hexed him. 

But Harry wanted answers, so he opened his bag and took out the small vial filled with a clear liquid. 

"Torustitum!" Harry knew he'd just cast Dark Arts again. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon. "Enervate!"

"Potter!" Snape barked, sliding to the floor. Harry rushed towards him, and helped him sit up, balancing him against the desk. 

"Hi."

"Potter, release me at once!"

"Nope." Harry crouched in front of Snape. "I want answers, and you're going to give them to me." He held up the vial. 

Snape's eyes widened. "You dare use that on me, and I will have you expelled. And I mean it this time, Potter!"

"If you dare have me expelled, I will tell Dumbledore everything. You hear me? _Everything._ "

Snape closed his mouth, narrowing his eyes. 

"I think we need to talk. And no more lies this time. Open your mouth." Harry uncorked the vial and held it up to Snape's face. 

Snape pursed his lips into a thin line. 

"Don't be so immature," Harry said, and pinched Snape's nose closed. Snape held his breath for a remarkably long time, but Harry won in the end. Snape gasped for breath, and Harry quickly poured six drops in Snape's mouth. 

"You're an Occlumens," Harry said, as though Snape needed to hear the explanation. "With only three drops, you can evade the truth. I've been reading up on Veritaserum."

Snape snorted. 

"And since I'm an Occlumens as well..." Harry stuck his tongue out, and poured six drops on it. He closed his mouth, and felt warmth swelling in his chest. "I think it works."

Snape was staring at him with wide eyes. 

"I told you, no more lies." Harry stoppered the vial, slid it in his pocket, and sat down on the floor beside Snape. "I wanted to set you up, because I was grieving and I held you responsible for Sirius' death.

"But as I got to know you, and as we started doing things together, I realized I didn't want to lose you. And now, I would never report you. I would never tell Dumbledore anything. I care about you."

Harry stared at the floor. "You have to believe me now."

"I do believe you, Potter." Snape looked rather annoyed he'd said that. Harry smiled at him.

"I have a few questions for you."

"And I'm convinced you'll ask them."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled. "First, why did you continue to be with me? You could have stopped after those first couple of times."

Snape clenched his jaws. "I saw...your potential."

"My potential as what?"

"Your potential as a wizard. I knew I could teach you. I wanted you on my side."

Harry blinked at Snape. "Your side?"

"Yes, my side. Not the Dark Lord's, not Dumbledore's, but my side. I wanted you close to me."

"Oh." Harry thought about that. "Is that why you taught me all those things? All those curses? And gave me the potions box?"

"Yes," Snape said. He looked pained. "I wanted you to find me useful."

"I find you very useful," Harry said, and then wondered where that had come from. "I mean, I like being with you. And I like your side."

"I'm delighted." And even though Snape sounded sarcastic, Harry knew he couldn't be lying. It made Harry laugh. Snape gave him a disgusted glare in response. 

"So you continued to be with me because you wanted to be with me, right? Not because you were using me."

"I – I'm not sure if I wasn't using you, Potter. But I do enjoy spending time with you."

"Do you want me?"

"Want you to what?" Snape frowned, his eyes glazing over. 

"Do you want to have sex with me?" Harry quickly asked. He realized he had to be somewhat specific with his questions. 

"Yes."

"Do you want to spend time with me?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?" Harry held his breath. 

"I – no."

"Oh." Harry bit his lip and glanced down, his shoulders hunched. 

"I'm not sure," Snape continued, "what that should feel like."

"Ah." Harry thought about that. "Do you care for me?"

"Yes."

"Do you wish me any harm?"

"No."

"That's good enough for me," Harry said, and laughed when Snape gave him a surprised look.

Snape cleared his throat. "Did you mean what you said that evening? Do you...love me?"

"I – I think so," Harry said. His mind was forcing him to find just the right words, no matter what other things he might want to say. "I think this is what love feels like. I love spending time with you. I love having sex with you. I love listening to your voice. I love how you can compliment me and make it sound like an insult."

Snape chuckled. "I love that, too."

"Why did you send me away that night? Why did you refuse to talk to me?" Harry asked, shifting closer to Snape. 

"I was angry. At you. And then I was angry at myself."

"Why at yourself?"

"Because I had allowed myself to get too close to you. Close enough that you could hurt me."

"I'm sorry I've hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. Please believe me." Harry gave Snape a pleading look. 

"How can I not believe you when you've dosed yourself with Veritaserum, you foolish child?"

"Can we just go back to the way we were? Can we be close again? Do you want that?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," Snape said, and rolled his eyes. Harry touched his hand to Snape's, and then realized Snape was still under the Paralysis Curse. 

"Finite Incantatem," he said, flicking his wand. Snape stretched his legs in response. "Sorry about that. But I had to talk to you and you wouldn't let me."

"I've taught you well," Snape said, shaking his head. "I should have seen this coming."

"You've taught me very well." Harry rested his cheek on Snape's shoulder. "And I'm very grateful for it."

"You foolish Gryffindor," Snape sighed, and ran his hand down Harry's thigh. 

"You can still insult me?"

"If it's the truth, yes." Snape laughed, and that sound sent a flutter of pleasure down Harry's body. 

"I've missed you," Harry whispered. 

"I've missed you, too," Snape said, and gasped. "I did not want to admit that."

Harry doubled over with laughter. "This is fun. We should do this more often."

"Like hell we will. I'm confiscating your Veritaserum the first chance I get," Snape said, though he smiled. 

"I won't let you."

"I know." Snape glanced at Harry. "What am I to do with you?"

"Just the things you've been doing already," Harry said, and pressed his lips to Snape's. "I just want to be with you. And I want you to be there for me."

"I'm there for you, Harry."

"Not for the last three days you weren't. And you called me Harry."

"I was angry, but I still wouldn't have let you get into serious trouble. And that is your name, isn't it?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, it's my name. Why don't you call me that more often?"

"You never asked me to." Snape shrugged. "I didn't think it was important to you."

"It's not very important. But I'd like it if you called me that from now on when we're together. Can I call you Severus?"

"Yes, Harry." Snape smirked at him. "Though call me that in class just once and you will be disemboweling toads."

Harry laughed, and nudged his knee against Snape's. "You make me happy."

"Likewise."

"I think I really do love you," Harry whispered, and pressed a kiss to Snape's cheek. 

"I – you make me feel warm, generally."

Harry snorted with laughter. 

Snape huffed. "Well, it's true."

Harry stayed silent for a few moments, just relishing the feeling of Snape sitting next to him. "Do you really believe I will kill Voldemort?"

"Yes, if you use your abilities with parseltongue."

Harry pursed his lips, glancing at Snape. "Do I remind you of Voldemort?"

Snape frowned. "In some ways. But I like you much better than I've ever liked the Dark Lord. And you're prettier."

"Severus, I've seen Voldemort up close. Even you are prettier," Harry said, chuckling. 

"Do you think I'm ugly?" Snape asked, and he sounded unsure. 

Harry stared at his face. "No. I used to think so, but not anymore. I love your eyes. God, you have such intense eyes."

"I like it when you stare into them. It feels like you see only me and nothing else." Snape lowered his gaze, a flush staining his cheeks. 

Harry smiled, and pressed another kiss to Snape's cheek. "You like powerful wizards, don't you?"

Snape snapped his gaze up at Harry, eyes narrowed. "I admire power. I always have."

"I'm afraid of it. I'm afraid of what my power might do to me," Harry whispered. Snape pulled him closer in response. "What do you think will happen to me if I cast dark magic in parseltongue?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you think I need to cast dark magic in parseltongue to kill Voldemort?"

"Yes," Snape sighed. "But it's your decision. It's your risk to take, so you get to decide whether you want to do it or not."

"But what if it turns me into him? What will you do then?"

Snape cupped Harry's face and stared into Harry's eyes. "I won't let you turn into him. I told you that before, and I mean it. I will do everything in my power to keep you from following in his footsteps. I promise."

"Thank you," Harry said, and pressed his lips to Snape's. "I need you in this. I can't do this alone."

"I'm right beside you, Harry." Snape deepened their kiss, and Harry wrapped his arms around Snape's neck. He moaned against Snape's lips, and felt a loss when Snape pulled back. 

"It's 2 am. You need sleep. I need sleep, too."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Can I see you tomorrow evening? For lessons and sex?"

Snape snorted with laughter. 

"It's the truth," Harry said, chuckling. He let Snape pull him to his feet. 

"Yes, you may see me tomorrow evening. Come to my office after dinner." Snape gave Harry one more kiss, and then stepped back from him. 

"There's one last thing," Harry said, lips curling up in a grin. "I won."

"What?"

"I deserve a reward."

Snape smiled, shaking his head. "Tomorrow, Harry, I promise I'll give you a blow job you'll never forget. I'm honestly not in the mood right now. Veritaserum kills my libido."

"Damn, I should have thought of that before dosing you," Harry said, and gathered his bag. He unlocked the door with a flick of his wand. "I'll see you tomorrow. We'll have sex then."

"Undoubtedly," Snape said, and returned Harry's smile. Harry ran all the way back to Gryffindor Tower. As long as Snape was with him, Harry knew he'd make the right decision when it came to it. Snape wouldn't let him be anything less than he was meant to be.

*~*~*~*~*

_Epilogue_

The dogs ran out in front of him, barking their greetings at the brown horse in the pasture. But Harry didn't see the brown. He only saw the green of the grass beneath the horse's hooves.

He saw lots of green all day long. And at night, his dreams were of a blinding green light that filled him like Severus' cock never could. But when Severus' cock did fill him, and Harry reached his climax, the flashes of light he saw behind his closed eyelids were green. 

Bruno, Harry's enormous St Bernard, pushed against his legs. Harry smiled down at him, and followed Bruno to the barn, where he gathered the things to feed the chickens and the ducks and the goats and the sheep. 

Harry had lots of animals. Severus said it was good for him. It kept him busy all day, taking care of them. Feeding them. Collecting the eggs. Petting them. Talking to them. Brushing them. 

Harry liked his animals, but he really wanted to have a snake. Or maybe two. Or maybe three. But Severus wouldn't let him. 

Elmo, Harry's Border Collie, herded the chickens to one side of the pen so Harry could collect the eggs. He put them in a basket, one by one, and closed the pen carefully after he was done. Then he shooed Nelly the Greyhound to the side, and dropped a stack of hay in the enclosure of the sheep and the goats. 

The grass was so green. The walls at St Mungo's had been green, too, though not as bright as Harry liked it. Harry liked green to be very bright.

Bruno pushed his head against Harry's thigh, and Harry smiled at him and followed Bruno to Carlos' pasture. 

"Do you feel like a ride today?" Harry asked his horse. "I feel like a ride today." Carlos whinnied in response, nodding his head up and down. 

Harry got the saddle from the barn, and once Carlos was ready, Harry turned to Bruno. "You stay here."

Bruno could never keep up with them, so Bruno always stayed behind, to keep Severus company. And even though Severus called him a great big slobbering mutt, Harry knew Severus liked Bruno. 

Harry mounted Carlos, and whistled once to tell Elmo and Nelly he was ready. Elmo and Nelly took off, and Carlos galloped after them, and Harry smiled at the feeling of wind in his face and the sight of all that green around him. 

Scotland was very green in the spring. 

Harry knew he could ride for hours without seeing another living soul. There were no Muggles where Harry lived. And no wizards, either. Especially no wizards.

Elmo and Nelly ran, and Carlos galloped, and Harry smiled and wondered if he kept riding his horse, he'd find a wizard eventually. 

Some days, he really hoped he would. 

But after two hours, Carlos stopped. Elmo and Nelly gathered around the horse, panting, their tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths. 

"Is it time to turn back?" Harry asked. He tried not to sound disappointed. Carlos whinnied, and Harry patted him on his neck. "All right. We'll go back."

And they did. Elmo and Nelly ran, and Carlos galloped, and Harry smiled and enjoyed the wind and the green. When they reached the barn, Bruno was there to greet them, and Harry hugged him before leading Carlos back to his pasture. He made sure Carlos had water and hay, and then he put the saddle back in the barn. 

He remembered to take the eggs back with him to the house. Harry liked his house. It was small and it smelled nice, like smoke and lemon. And Severus lived there, too. Harry stepped through the red front door – Harry didn't really like red, but Severus had insisted – and went in search of Severus. 

But as he tried the kitchen, he remembered. Severus was away for the day. Severus had gone to Hogwarts for business. 

"He'll be back soon, won't he?" Harry asked Bruno, who pressed his wet nose against Harry's hand in response. "Okay. I'll make tea."

Harry lit the stove with a match, and then filled the kettle with water from the tap. He put a teabag in the blue teapot – Harry didn't really like blue, but Severus did – and waited for the water to boil. And just when he'd poured hot water in the teapot, the front door opened and closed. 

Elmo and Nelly jumped up, barking, and went to greet Severus. Harry followed them, Bruno not two paces behind him. 

"Hi," Harry said. "I've made tea. How was your day?"

"Dreadful," Severus said, pulling off his cloak. He draped it across one of the dining table's chairs. "Dumbledore is meddlesome as ever, Draco is far too kind for his students – three exploding cauldrons in one class, that serves him right – and Lupin sends his regards. He insists on coming over for supper this Sunday."

But Harry only heard half of what Severus told him. Because there, in the pocket of Severus' cloak, was a wand. The handle stuck out just an inch from the black fabric. 

Harry lunged for it, but Bruno clamped his teeth in Harry's trousers and held him back. Elmo and Nelly jumped in front of Harry, lips raised and teeth flickering. 

"No!" Harry screamed, clawing at the air around him. "I need it!" 

And then Severus closed his arms around him, and Severus had taken lessons from Kingsley, Harry just knew it. 

"Please," Harry whimpered. "Please, please, please."

"No, Harry," Severus said, and pressed his lips to Harry's temple. "Look at me." Harry did, and Severus' eyes were black, and black was the only color Harry liked besides green. 

"I'm sorry," Harry said, and pressed sloppy kisses to Severus' cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"It was my mistake." Severus released Harry, and patted Bruno on his big head. Then he turned away, and Harry watched Severus take his wand from his cloak. Bruno still had Harry's trousers between his teeth, and when Harry tried to take a step towards Severus, Elmo and Nelly growled at him. 

Severus dropped his wand in the wooden box beside the front door; the box everyone dropped their wands in when they visited Harry, and no matter how many times Harry had tried, the box would never open for him.

"Did you say you made tea?" Severus asked. Bruno finally let go of Harry's trousers. 

"Yes!" As Harry turned towards the kitchen, Severus ran a tired hand across his face. 

Harry carried the tray holding the teapot and cups carefully into the living room. He poured them both a cup, and sat down on the couch beside Severus. Bruno placed his big head on Harry's knee, gazing up at him with adoration. Nelly insisted on lying on the couch beside Severus, and Elmo curled up at Harry's feet. 

"How was your day?" Severus asked, mindlessly stroking Nelly's slim head. 

Harry looked at Severus, and when Severus was around, things always seemed much more clear. "Shit," he said, when he realized what he'd done. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Severus said, and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips. 

"You know I don't really want it, don't you?" Harry asked, worried Severus would hate him for his uncontrolled behavior. "I really don't, but it's hard sometimes."

"I know." 

"I'm glad you won't let me," Harry said, and he meant it. "I'm really glad."

"I told you I wouldn't, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and rested his cheek on Severus' shoulder. "You did." 

And Severus had kept his word ever since Harry had killed Voldemort with a Killing Curse stronger than the wizarding world had ever seen. 

But on some days, Harry wished he hadn't. 

 

~~fin~~


End file.
